


What Did They Aim For (When They Missed Your Heart)?

by ParadiseAvenger



Series: Parentheses [2]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010), Rise of the Guardians (2012), rise of the brave tangled frozen dragons - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Temperature Play, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1741739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadiseAvenger/pseuds/ParadiseAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiccup had always thought dragons were dangerous until he catches an invisible spirit. He starts to look at the dragons differently. Then, he looks at everything differently. HiJack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your Soul is on Fire

I’m so seriously flaky! I just can’t decide whom I like to pair with Jack Frost. I’ve written him with Rapunzel in “I Would Have Died (I Would Have Loved You)” and I started on one of him with Elsa! Now I’m even trying him with Hiccup. What is wrong with me?

Just like in my other Jack Frost stories, I plan this to be five chapters ending with a nice lemon.

Title inspired by Within Temptation’s song, “Shot in the Dark.”

X X X

It was hard to say exactly when Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third started hallucinating. Hiccup could first remember seeing it on one of the many nights when Berk was under dragon-fire. He was working Gobber’s forge, as usual, while all the other teens rushed about to save the village from fiery destruction, as usual. Then, he saw it.

It was just a glimpse, just a flash, an image so quick it might have been only a trick of the light. Amidst the starry night sky and the raging dragons, there was a brightness that didn’t belong. It didn’t look like any dragon Hiccup had ever heard of or seen. It was white and blue and it looked like a person but it moved too fast. It was there for a moment—Hiccup blinked—and then it was gone. 

“I’m hallucinating,” Hiccup told himself. “I got hit in the head.”

Since he had taken a few knocks when he rushed from his house to the blacksmith’s shop, he let himself believe that. He watched Astrid, Fishlegs, Snotlout, and the Thorston Twins rush about to put out fires. They moved with importance, as if they were bringing rain to the barren desert. They were so cool and Hiccup wished he could be like them, but he wasn’t and he knew it. He would never be like them—he was different and that was a bad thing.

Hiccup sharpened another sword, focusing on the burn of the forge and the searing keen of hot metal. He tried not to think about the dragons, about the Vikings, about how he had been banished to the shop so he’d be out of the way.

He didn’t think about the hallucination anymore. 

Even though Hiccup tried to put it out of his mind, he started hallucinating more and more. Every time he turned his head, the fleeting quicksilver mirage was there. It was always gone before he could look at it properly enough to decide what it was. It danced in the sky among the clouds, it swirled over the ocean, it ducked behind newly-built houses, and then it was always gone.

“It’s a dragon,” Hiccup told himself. “It’s just another dragon. It has to be.”

The next day, the village was busy. There were houses to be rebuilt, broken weapons to be mended, sheep and yaks to be corralled, and problems to fix. The sky was a shade of metal and covered in a thick blanket of snow-bearing clouds. A cold breeze was blowing in off the ocean and the promise of snow was as imminent as dragons would be that night.

Hiccup was chilly even as he worked at the forge, with no beard or body fat to protect him from the stiff breeze. He worked the bellows, listening half-heartedly to Gobber as the one-handed man lectured him on all the ways he was doing everything wrong—again. 

“You’ve just got to stop all this,” Gobber continued. “Maybe work out instead of building weird…” He glanced at Hiccup’s most recent invention standing in the corner of the shop. Hiccup intended it to throw a bola (1), but some calibration issues had it doing more harm than help. “…things,” Gobber finished.

“I know, I know, Gobber,” Hiccup muttered and stepped up to the anvil. He lifted a small hammer and went to work pounding out arrowheads. 

Gobber felt silent for a few minutes and apparently decided that he had scolded Hiccup enough. He began singing loudly and incredibly off-key about his axe, his mace, and his wife with an ugly face. He changed his hand from a stone to a hammer and began pounding away at a dull sword with a bent blade. 

They worked in companionable silence for a while. Even though Gobber was Stoick’s right-hook-man, he understood Hiccup in a way that his own father never would. Gobber knew that Hiccup wanted his dad to be proud of him more than anything. Even though Hiccup’s efforts were often misguided or didn’t work out and Gobber scolded him, it was never mean-spirited. Gobber wanted Hiccup and Stoick to get along almost as badly as Hiccup did.

Sighing, Hiccup paused in his work and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He had a small pile of arrowheads at his elbow. All that remained to do was to sharpen them. He glanced out the nearby window and noticed the first fat fluffy flakes of snow were beginning to fall. 

Abruptly, Hiccup spotted someone he didn’t recognize among the villagers. It was a boy, roughly Hiccup’s own fourteen winters in age, dressed in a strange cloak and blue tunic. He carried a useless-looking spear with a crooked top, but he was even slimmer than Hiccup was so he doubted he could actually wield it. The boy stood out with his bright white hair and moon-pale skin, nothing like the ruddy and bearded Vikings. He was shockingly barefoot, even though it was beginning to snow. 

Hiccup moved a little closer to the window, looking out and studying the strange visitor. Could this boy be the son of a visiting chief or maybe an invader? Yet he moved so easily through the village. No one tried to stop him and no one even glanced his way.

Then, in an instant so fast Hiccup thought he imagined it, one of the villagers walked right through the boy. The boy’s figure wavered slightly and he paused for only a moment to press a hand to his chest. A moment later, he continued as if nothing had happened and the villager had never reacted at all.

Startled, Hiccup threw himself away from the window, stumbled over a stack of broken weapons, and fell sprawled on his back. The heat of the forge was close, painfully close. He swiftly jolted to his feet and rushed back to the window. The cold air kissed his heated skin and he let out a quick breath. 

“What in the name of Thor—” Gobber began, cutting off his song mid-word as he turned to stare at Hiccup.

The boy was gone though.

“Nothing,” Hiccup said quickly. “It’s nothing. I just… thought I saw a dragon, is all.”

Gobber peered out the window at the empty grey sky. “No harm in being watchful,” he said as he straightened the fallen weapons. “Why don’t you finish up and go on home? It’s been a long day. I might need you if dragons come back tonight.”

Hiccup nodded, his eyes still trained on the villagers as they moved about their routines of mending, fixing, and collecting. No one looked puzzled or troubled. No one looked as if they had just walked through a strange boy. No one looked as if they had seen a ghost. Everything was peaceful and quiet.

“You’re hallucinating again,” Hiccup muttered to himself. “You need to get more sleep and cut back on the nog.”

“Did you say something?” Gobber asked.

“Nothing,” Hiccup said. He scooped up the pile of arrowheads, carried them to the grindstone, and began sharpening. Every so often, his eyes strayed to the window and scanned the faces that passed. He didn’t see the strange boy again and it began to snow harder.

By the time Hiccup finished and left the shop, Berk was deep in the throes of a hideous blizzard. It didn’t look like the dragons would be coming either. They were probably hunkered down somewhere around a nice fire, eating all the sheep they had managed to steal the night before. Hiccup staggered home through the buffeting winds and slammed in through the front door.

His father, Stoick the Vast, was sitting in front of the hearth with a mug of something Hiccup wasn’t allowed to drink yet.

“Hey Dad,” Hiccup said lamely as he stomped the snow off his boots.

“Everything go alright at the shop today?” Stoick asked mechanically without ever lifting his eyes from the fire. 

“Yeah,” Hiccup told him. “It was fine. I made a bunch of arrowheads.”

“No swords?” Stoick asked before thinking about it.

Hiccup’s face fell and he turned towards the stairs. “No,” he said bitterly. He didn’t admit that he couldn’t work with metal that large or heavy and Stoick didn’t try to salvage the conversation. Hiccup climbed the stairs and disappeared into his bedroom.

It remained silent and still downstairs. 

Hiccup sank down at his desk and stared at all the plans he had made to recalibrate his bola thrower. He was pretty sure he knew what was wrong with it, but what was the point of fixing it? Even if he caught and managed to kill a dragon, he doubted it would be enough to please his father. So long as he used his inventions instead of his own strength, he wouldn’t be a Viking—not in his father’s eyes at least—and that was the only thing that mattered.

Hiccup crumpled the designs with both hands and threw them into the fire. He watched them burn, choking on smoke and heat and biting cold. Startled, Hiccup turned towards the window and saw a flash of white and blue through the small slat between the shutters. Then, there was only the swirling of countless snowflakes and the window was empty. 

“That hallucination again,” he grumbled. 

Hiccup threw himself down on his hard bed and mashed his face into his pillow. He tried not to think about everything that went wrong that day, but it was hard not to go through the highlights. He couldn’t make a sword, he’d failed at moving some building supplies in front of Astrid, and his father was displeased with him as usual. The storm continued long after Hiccup fell asleep, howling at the roof like a living thing that wanted to get in. 

…

A few days passed and Hiccup was almost able to put the hallucination out of his mind. The dragons returned with a vengeance as soon as the blizzard abated. With all the snow, fewer houses caught fire, but there was still a fair amount of damage. Stoick busied himself with fixing the village and left Hiccup with Gobber, but Gobber was just as busy as Stoick was and he had a little trust for Hiccup even if that wasn’t saying much. Hiccup found himself alone in the blacksmith’s shop, staring at the fire like it was going to tell him something.

Then, he saw it again—that flash that lasted as long as a blink, blue and white, quick like a snowflake—his hallucination. 

Hiccup whirled around and rushed to the window. He put both hands on the wide sill and looked out at the sky. Several other villagers had stopped and were staring up at the sky as well. For a moment, Hiccup thought maybe his hallucination wasn’t just a mirage after all. Then, there was a signature cry and a flash of ink cut through the clouds.

“Night Fury!” a woman shouted.

“Get down!” a man echoed.

A child screamed.

There was a flare of light followed by the unmistakable sound of one of the catapults being destroyed. A moment later, the dragons returned as if they had been waiting in the wings. The dark sky lit up with fire and flakes. Hiccup grabbed the handles of his bola thrower and ran through the snow, slipping and sliding as he heaved his machine up the crest of the nearby hill. There, he had an unobstructed view of the sky. He readied his invention, pulling back the many handles and levers until it was ready to fire. 

Dragons filled the sky. They breathed endless fire, swooped this way and that, and fled into the night with sheep.

Hiccup didn’t aim at any of them. Instead, he waited. He waited for the Night Fury to return.

Time seemed to crawl. Even though he was aware of the flicker of white and blue at the edge of his vision, he didn’t turn his gaze from the sky. The Night Fury would return soon. He sensed it in his blood, in his Viking soul. The dragon was close. 

If he could take down the Night Fury, maybe his father would finally—

Suddenly, the black shape moved against the clouds. The snowflakes swirled in the wake of the great dragon and he saw the faint glow of the fire in its throat as it prepared to take out another catapult. Hiccup jerked the bola thrower into position and yanked the trigger. With fierce recoil that knocked him off his feet, the bola hurled through the air. Hiccup sat up quickly and scanned the skyline just in time to see the Night Fury fall with a howl.

“Yes!” Hiccup shouted and leaped to his feet. He threw his hands in the air in victory. “Yes! I did it! Did anyone see that?”

But he was alone on the crest of the cliff. 

Distantly, he could hear the riot of noise that was his village fighting away the dragons. He could hear his father’s booming voice over everything else. Maybe now his father would finally be proud. Night Furies were rare and intelligent. No one had ever been able to take one down before and Hiccup had been the first.

Something fluttered at the edge of his vision and Hiccup turned to look before he could remind himself that he was just hallucinating again. For the first time, the fleeting image wasn’t gone when he turned and Hiccup’s breath caught in his throat like a stone. 

It was the boy he had seen in the village, the one who had been walked through like a ghost. He looked just the same as he had that day, right down to his clothes and his curiously bare feet even though there was a sheet of snow on the ground. His white hair caught the moonlight, glittering as if frosted, and his eyes were the brightest blue Hiccup had ever seen. For a moment, he just stared at the strange boy and the boy stared right back without blinking. 

Then, behind Hiccup, there came an ominous crunch. Hiccup turned just as a Monstrous Nightmare crested the cliff side and crushed the bola thrower beneath one large clawed foot. Hiccup stared at the dragon for a full heartbeat before his legs caught up with the instinct in his brain. 

He ran. 

When he thought to look back, the strange boy was gone and so was the dragon. Only the crushed remnants of his invention remained, reminding him that he had been hallucinating a lot lately. Hiccup paused, breathing hard, and considered the empty knoll before him. After a moment, he hurried back up to the ruins of his machine and stooped to feel the wreckage in his hands. Only something as large as a dragon could have demolished his machine so maybe he hadn’t hallucinated that part.

A paleness flickered at the edges of his vision. 

Hiccup turned his head and saw that the strange boy was standing at the edge of the cliff, eerily backlit by fire and moonlight and snow. He was still holding that ridiculous staff and the tail of his cloak fluttered in the stiff sea breeze. Again, he just stared at Hiccup without speaking. Then, he stepped back over the boundary of the cliff and disappeared.

Hiccup rushed to the edge, heart in his throat for someone he didn’t even know, and looked down at the churning waves. Just as he did, the boy swooped up past his face like a bird. Tossed by the wind, the boy hovered high above Hiccup for a moment and then darted off into the snow-laden clouds. 

For a moment, Hiccup just stared at the empty sky. He was dimly aware that the noise in the village was beginning to abate as the dragons were driven off, but he could only think of that strange boy. There was no way he had seen that. It just wasn’t possible. No one could fly like that—no human could fly like that—but he was unable to convince himself that he had hallucinated or imagined it. 

Hiccup gathered the ruins of his bola thrower and rolled it all back to Gobber’s shop. Luckily, the village was so busy that hardly anyone noticed him. Tomorrow, he would fix the machine again, he would go looking for the Night Fury, and then he would use the bola thrower to catch that strange flying boy. What would his father think if he managed that? Maybe Stoick the Vast could finally wear and expression that wasn’t disappointment involving his only son.

…

Two mornings passed. It dawned painfully bright as rare sunlight reflected off the layers of snow and ice that coated Berk like a blanket. Hiccup left the house before Stoick was even awake and went straight to Gobber’s shop to retrieve his repaired bola thrower. He had redesigned it and managed to significantly lighten it while making it easier to maneuver. Hiccup rolled it through the snow towards the dense forest of Raven Point where the Night Fury had gone down two nights ago. 

Even though Hiccup had gone looking for the dragon yesterday and the day before, he still hadn’t had any luck locating it. All the while, his mirage continued to dance just out of sight without ever appearing completely. It was infuriating. 

“Some Vikings lose a sword or a wife, but not me,” Hiccup grumbled as his machine rumbled and bounced over the rocky terrain. “I manage to lose an entire dragon and a…” He hesitated. What exactly should he call his hallucination? A ghost, a god, a spirit? Finally, he exclaimed, “A flying boy!”

The wind seemed to laugh at him.

A few hours later, Hiccup paused, took his notebook from his pocket, and crossed off another section of Raven Point. The hand-drawn map was a mess of Xs and smudges. The Night Fury didn’t seem to be anywhere. Where could the beast have gone? Had it just disappeared, like the flying boy? Like all of Hiccup’s other hallucinations?

With a huff, Hiccup stuffed the notebook back into his pocket and pushed aside a nearby branch. The foliage parted like a curtain and revealed the great shattered ruins of a large pine tree. It looked as if something had smashed into the tree from a great height. Hiccup quickly approached the tree, dragging his bola thrower with him, and scrutinized it. 

There was a fissure leading away from the tree. Hiccup’s heart began to pound. Something big had made this crater and destroyed this tree. It had to be the dragon. As he raced along the gouge in the earth, he almost completely forgot about the flying boy. He crested a small hill and there it was, spread out like a Thanksgiving Day feast. 

The Night Fury lay in the dirt, trussed up in the bola. Plants and small trees had been destroyed around it in a small circle, as if the great beast had been struggling to break free.

Hiccup quickly unsheathed the tiny dagger he carried in his belt and clambered down the hill to the dragon’s side. The creature was still alive, breathing shallowly, as Hiccup looked it over. Oh, Odin… the Night Fury had been so terrifying when it was attacking the village, but now… it looked small and fragile. It peered up at Hiccup with bright green eyes, pitiable, frightened, as it gazed at his knife.

“I’m going to kill you dragon,” Hiccup heard himself whisper. “I’ll cut out your heart and take it to my father. Maybe then he’ll—”

Something flickered at the edge of Hiccup’s vision, flashing there like a ghost. 

The Night Fury made a soft sound, closed its eyes, and turned away as best it could. It was then that Hiccup knew he’d never be able to hurt the poor beast. It was afraid and probably hungry. Maybe it was just doing what it had to do to please its own father. Hiccup stared at the knife in his hand and turned away for a moment.

The boy was standing there, like his conscience, watching silently.

Hiccup turned back to the dragon and then slid to his knees. He cut away the ropes of the bola as quickly as possible. He didn’t doubt that the dragon might try to take revenge the moment he freed it, but he couldn’t leave it tied up forever. That would be crueler than outright killing it. The ropes loosened and fell. The dragon’s strong body twitched and it drew in a deep breath. Then, the last of the restraints fell away and the dragon was free. Hiccup stumbled backwards, heart in his throat, but the dragon’s green eyes lit upon him like a physical touch. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then, the Night Fury leaped to its feet in a great downward flap of strong wings and disappeared into the dense forest.

Hiccup heard branches breaking as he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and turned away from the site of the dragon’s fall. The strange boy flickered at the edge of Hiccup’s vision, white and blue, and then was gone. The trees remained, whispering as if they knew something Hiccup never would. A cool breeze ghosted through Hiccup’s hair. It was all quiet and still.

Hiccup stared at the bola thrower. What would he do with his dangerous machine now? It wasn’t as if he would ever be able to capture the Night Fury again and he was having doubts about catching the strange flying boy. What good was the thrower? What good was Hiccup? What good was any of this?

The trees moved, danced, with the breeze. Patterns of frost swirled across the depression of ruined plants and snow-dusted soil like seeking fingers. 

…

The sun was setting like cold fire on the horizon when Hiccup returned to Gobber’s blacksmith shop with the bola thrower in tow and tucked it into the back room where Gobber let him hide all his little inventions from his father. He kicked up drifts of snow as he headed home.

Stoick the Vast was sitting at the fire with his feet stretched out towards the flames. 

“Hey Dad,” Hiccup muttered as he closed the door at his back.

“It’s positively freezing out there,” Stoick said evenly. “Old Man Winter’s brought us quite the storm.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy for that, Dad?” Hiccup asked as he came to warm up beside the fire. “With all this snow, the dragons have calmed down and it’s harder for things to catch on fire.”

Stoick chuckled. “Very true,” he said. “Winter does love Berk. Something, I think this place is Jokul Frosti’s favorite vacationing spot.”

“Jokul Frosti?” (2) Hiccup repeated as he lifted the lid on the pot of stew and peered inside.

“I used to tell you stories about him when you were little…” Stoick trailed off, eying Hiccup’s slim shoulders and diminutive stature.

Hiccup sent up a silent prayer to Odin that he and his father could have one conversation where Hiccup’s size didn’t come into play. Already, he could see Stoick’s features washing into a mask of disappointment and frustration. 

After a moment, the expression passed. Stoick cleared his throat and continued as if he had never mentioned how tiny and worthless his son was. “Jokul Frosti was one of your favorite stories. I used to tell you all about the sprite that brings winter and snow and ice. I always used to tell you that he nipped your nose to keep you from playing outside for too long. You used to be convinced that you’d lose your entire nose to Jokul Frosti.” Stoick chuckled and smiled fondly at the memory.

Hiccup ladled out a bowl of stew and sat down beside his father, soaking up this rare moment of conversation. “And?” he encouraged.

Stoick glanced over at Hiccup, studying him for a moment. The affection in his eyes was like a warm embrace, but as he watched Hiccup eat, the happiness began to fade. “It’s just an old story,” he said coolly. “We have more important things to worry about than the legend of winter.”

Hiccup swallowed, his throat closing over the stew that had been delicious only moments ago. “But—”

“Jokul Frosti isn’t real, Hiccup,” Stoick said sternly. “You need to stop chasing legends. You need to stop all this.”

Hiccup rose sharply from his seat, put aside his bowl, and turned away from his father.

“Someday,” Stoick called after him and his voice followed like an arrow to pierce Hiccup’s heart. “You’ll have to take my place as the village’s chief. You can’t go chasing after stories and trolls. You can’t keep being like this. You’re not a child anymore. It’s not real. They’re just stories!”

Hiccup stopped at the top of the stairs and shouted down, “What if it’s not? What if it’s all real?”

“It’s not real,” Stoick shouted back. “Jokul Frosti is just a story. No one brings winter or flies in the face of storms—”

Hiccup slammed his bedroom door, cutting off any further dagger-like words. He leaned against the roughhewn wood and stared at the floor for a long time. He thought of the Night Fury he had managed to capture, of the hallucination dancing at the edges of his vision, of the strange barefoot boy he had seen in the snow. Why was it no matter what he did Stoick was never happy with him? 

“Jokul Frosti,” Hiccup repeated. 

Even if he couldn’t find it in his heart to kill a dragon, Hiccup was sure he could find the strength to capture the spirit of winter. How hard could it be? He could bring Jokul Frosti to his father and show him, once and for all, that Hiccup could be wiser and more clever than anyone. Any Viking could kill a dragon, but how many could catch a sprite?

Moreover, Hiccup knew exactly where to start looking. Now that Stoick had reminded him of the legends of Jokul Frosti, all his old memories were coming back. Hiccup pushed away the happy ones—the glimpses of his mother, the flare of his father’s smile and strong arms lifting Hiccup to the sky, the happiness of being loved. 

Instead, he focused on the facts. Jokul Frosti could fly, could bear the unspeakable cold, and could spread snow and frost. Although he was a trickster and dangerous if provoked, Hiccup would just have to be faster. He would catch the sprite before he even had a chance to escape. Hiccup had just the device to capture Jokul Frosti, too. If his bola thrower was strong enough to take down a Night Fury, it was certainly powerful enough to snare the spirit of winter.

The flash of blue and white danced through the slat of the shuttered window, teasing Hiccup. That strange flying boy had to be Jokul Frosti. What else could explain the way he moved through the village unnoticed and barefoot? It explained why he was everywhere and how he could fly with the same ease of a dragon. 

Hiccup didn’t let himself think about why he appeared to be the only one who could see the strange boy. He didn’t let himself think about hallucinations, disappointed fathers, or Viking teens that would always be stronger than he would. He went to his desk and sat there, sketching designs for shackles that would be able to hold the winter sprite.

X X X

Please, check out my first ORIGINAL NOVEL! **The Breaking of Poisonwood by Paradise Avenger.** (Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a slave auction as a birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new life was going to be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when Venus de Luna was killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior… Then, bad things happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we discovered the ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to his advantage. The Poisonwood—)

(1) A bola is a throwing weapon made of weights on the ends of interconnected cords. It’s designed to capture animals by entangling their legs. 

(2) The legend of Jack Frost actually begins with Anglo-Saxon or Norse roots. They call him Jokul Frosti.

Questions, comments, concerns? 

I have one! What other pairings does everyone like with Jack Frost?


	2. A Shot in the Dark

I know Jack is canonically alone for three hundred years, but I’m shortening it a little to try to fit with Hiccup’s timeline (not that I’m trying too hard because colonial times came way after Vikings anyway, but still…) Just go with it!

X X X

Most of the village was still asleep and a few houses shook with Viking snores when Hiccup crept out of the house bright and early. There were some small footprints in the snow, maybe Astrid’s. She had a tendency to go out to Raven Point early in the morning to practice her axe throwing. Hiccup collected his bola thrower from Gobber’s shop and rolled it through the snow. He didn’t know where he should start hunting for Jokul Frosti, but he figured that Raven Point was as good a place as any. 

The bola thrower rumbled and bounced over the drifts of snow as Hiccup made his way through the trees. Sure enough, he could hear Astrid’s distant war cry as she practiced with her axe. He thought about going to join her, trying to impress her with his machine, but decided against it. After he caught Jokul Frosti and made the village proud, then he could approach Astrid. Maybe then, she would smile and invite him to spar even though she could certainly kick his butt.

Hiccup wandered the forest for a few hours, aimless, until he finally came to a sheer cliff that looked out over the ocean. The sky was empty of dragons and flying boys. The endless szash-szash of the sea was soothing and calm. Hiccup could almost forget about his father, about his village, about how thin and weak he was. The ocean chipped away at the earth without a care. 

Hiccup sank down beside his bola thrower and stared at the sky for a long time. He thought about the Night Fury. It had been so pretty up close, its scales shining and its wings laced with veins. Lying there, the dragon reminded Hiccup of himself. He should have touched it, felt its scales beneath his hand, when he had the chance. Now, he wondered about what it would have felt like. Would the scales be warm or cold, rough or smooth? 

Something flickered at the edge of Hiccup’s sight. It had grown so familiar after the days turned to weeks and Hiccup just kept seeing it everywhere. That mirage of blue and white, darting, quick as a snowflake, and usually gone by the time Hiccup turned his head. 

This time, Hiccup hesitated. He forced himself not to look because the strange flying boy always disappeared when Hiccup turned to look too quickly. He waited, breathing deeply to calm his racing nerves. He became aware of the shadow of his bola thrower nearby, so close. Hiccup could be to it in seconds, secure his hands over the trigger, and fire. Yet he forced himself to wait, to hold, studying the ethereal shape from the corners of his eyes.

Then, when he sensed more than saw that the strange boy had settled down, Hiccup lunged to his feet and grabbed for the bola thrower. He jerked it around and took quick aim, capturing the flying boy in the sights of the weapon. For a moment, they both stared at each other.

The flying boy’s bright eyes shone and then shock overcame his expression. He dipped a little closer to Hiccup, his slim body lifted buoyantly by the cool ocean breeze. “Can you see—?”

Hiccup fired.

The recoil threw Hiccup backwards, skidding dangerously close to the edge of the sheer cliff. The bola whipped through the air and snared the floating sprite easily. For a moment, the boy struggled against the weight and managed to remain in the air for a few more seconds than the dragon. Then, he crashed through the branches of the tree and landed in a painful heap in the snow. He thrashed wildly, trying to tear free of the bindings and weights. His peculiar staff had landed several feet away and Hiccup quickly grabbed it. He didn’t know what it was capable of, but he wasn’t about to risk letting Jokul Frosti escape.

Hiccup panted, staring at the prize he had captured almost too easily. “I caught you,” he breathed out. “Jokul Frosti. You’re real.”

The strange boy stopped struggling for a moment and stared at Hiccup with bright blue eyes. “Jokul Frosti?” he repeated. Then, with awe and hope in his voice, he breathed out, “Can you see me?”

Hiccup clutched the staff a little closer. “Why wouldn’t I?” he demanded haughtily. “You just stay here. I’ll bring my father and show him that I’m stronger than any Viking. I can capture the essence of winter even if I can’t kill a dragon.”

The boy’s blue eyes widened, but more in shock than fear.

Hiccup turned away, leaving behind the bola thrower and the captured spirit.

“Wait!” the strange boy shouted at Hiccup’s back. “Don’t leave! Come back!”

Hiccup didn’t let himself think about the odd sorrow that filled the sprite’s voice. He hurried back to the village, clutching the crooked staff to his chest, reminding himself that hallucinations didn’t carry weapons that he could hold in his hands and present to his father. This was real. Jokul Frosti was real.

Hiccup skidded into Gobber’s shop and asked quickly, “Where’s my dad?”

Gobber looked at him a moment, taking in Hiccup’s dirty clothes and the measly stick he carried. “What have you been up too?” Gobber asked.

“I caught Jokul Frosti,” Hiccup said eagerly.

Gobber brought his hammer down on his good hand and leaped away from the anvil in a flurry of curses. “Odin’s beard!” he shouted and then whirled on Hiccup. “Haven’t we talked about this? It’s all just stories, legends, myths. It’s not real, Hiccup.”

“It is,” Hiccup protested. “If you’ve just follow me, you’d see. I caught him. I really did!”

Gobber sighed, removed his hammer, and plugged in his favorite hook instead. “Hiccup, you’re going to regret this.”

“I’m not,” Hiccup assured Gobber. “Where’s my dad?”

“In the Great Hall,” Gobber said uneasily. “I’ll come with—”

But Hiccup was already running through the snow towards the Great Hall where the Vikings held all their meetings and ate large holiday-type feasts. He heaved open the door with his shoulder, groaning with effort, and Gobber managed to catch up with him. The one-handed man pushed the door open easily and Hiccup spilled inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the bright snowy midday to the dim smoky interior of the hall, but then he spotted his father.

Stoick was laughing, drinking ale, and had the map spread out before him. He must have been discussing another raid on the Dragon Island, even though none of his attempts had been successful so far. It was just a waste of boat, but maybe now that Hiccup had caught the very essence of winter…

“Dad!” Hiccup shouted over the dull roar of the hall.

Stoick turned and his lips pulled into a hard downward quirk. “Gobber,” he said. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“I couldn’t stop him,” was all Gobber said.

Hiccup pushed towards his father and looked up at him. “I caught Jokul Frosti,” he said proudly.

A few of the nearby Vikings murmured and exchanged worried glances.

“Look,” Hiccup continued and presented the pathetic stick. “This is his staff.”

“Hiccup,” Stoick said and there was warning in his voice. “We talked about this.”

“It’s true,” Hiccup protested. “I caught him and he’s tied up in the woods. If you’d only come with me, you’d see!”

“Hiccup!” Stoick shouted and rose to his full height. He glared down at his son and fire burned in his dark angry eyes. He was sick of this—sick of Hiccup disobeying orders, not listening, running off on tangents that had nothing to do with being a Viking. It was time Hiccup learned—time he learned his place and his true heritage. 

“Stoick,” Gobber broke in before Stoick could continue. “Can I speak with you? Outside? Obviously, your boy’s been missing you terribly and is making up wild stories. Best to humor him, eh?”

Hiccup turned to face Gobber, saw the worry in the one-handed man’s face, and realized just how dangerously close he had been to enraging his father. He took a stumbling step back and his face went pale as fresh cream so that his freckles stood out sharply. “Dad, I…” he began.

“Outside,” Stoick said firmly. “Of course, Gobber.” Then, he closed his strong hand over Hiccup’s shoulder and steered him out of the Great Hall and away from prying eyes.

Hiccup stumbled in the deep snow at the foot of the steps and Stoick released his grasp on his son. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Hiccup wanted to speak, wanted to explain and persuade, but he didn’t quite dare. Gobber hung back, silent, worriedly touching the hook that replaced his hand. Stoick towered over both of them, his eyes like flint, for a long moment. 

Then, tersely, Stoick demanded, “Show me Jokul Frosti then, Hiccup.”

A tremulous breath of relief escaped Hiccup even as Gobber inhaled sharply. 

“This way,” Hiccup said and rushed off. He stumbled through the snow and over wreckage from the dragons’ last attack. “Just off Raven Point.”

“Stoick,” Gobber ventured once Hiccup had raced out of earshot.

“Quiet, Gobber,” Stoick said firmly. “I’ll thank you not to tell me how to raise my son.”

Gobber followed, concern weighing on him like the weight of his missing limbs. 

Hiccup led the pair of older Vikings through the woods to the place where he had shot down the strange boy. A little flutter of fear had taken root in his stomach. What if Jokul Frosti was gone when he brought them there? What if he had escaped? Or, worse yet, what if Hiccup really had just been hallucinating this past week or so?

“Just up here,” Hiccup panted. “I left him here.”

Stoick and Gobber followed in silence, trudging through the snow and breaking branches as they pushed them aside.

Finally, Hiccup spotted his bola thrower just where he had left it. For a moment, heart in his throat, he didn’t see Jokul Frosti. The area at the base of the tree was bare save the remnants of some broken branches. He rushed into the small clearing, looking this way and that with nervous sharpness. Abruptly, he spotted the winter sprite. The strange boy had managed to crawl a few feet away. With his pale hair and skin, he blended in with the snow until he looked more like a pile of discarded clothing. 

“Right here,” Hiccup said and pointed. He beamed proudly as Gobber and Stoick approached. 

For a moment, both men looked without speaking. 

Then, Gobber said warningly, “Stoick…”

Hiccup glanced at Jokul Frosti and then back at his father, uncomprehending. Jokul was right there. Was Stoick the Vast finally so proud that he could speak? 

“Dad,” Hiccup began.

Stoick grabbed Hiccup harshly by the shoulder and shook him painfully. “I told you,” he shouted in a rage. “You have to stop all this. No more stories, no more inventions, no more of this. You have to start acting like a real Viking!”

Hiccup dropped the staff and struggled to wrench free, but his father’s grip was like steel. It might have been easier to escape a dragon. “Dad,” he protested, pulling at the strong hand with his thin fingers. “He’s right there. Can’t you see him?”

“There’s nothing there, Hiccup!” Stoick shouted and shook Hiccup so fiercely that his teeth rattled together. “There’s nothing but snow and your imagination. You have to stop believing all these stupid myths and legends. You’re a Viking and you’re the Chief’s son! Now act like it or I’ll have to… I’ll have to disown you!”

Those words stung harder than any blow might have. 

Hiccup froze, shock filling his heart and mind. “What…?” he breathed.

“Stoick,” Gobber began.

Sharply, Stoick released Hiccup’s shoulder and the boy crumpled in the snow. “I mean it,” Stoick murmured with a quiet that was deadly. “Stop all this. Just… stop…” Then, he turned away and began walking back towards the village.

Hiccup remained on his knees in the snow, staring at his father’s back. It felt like a gaping wound had been punched through his chest. “Dad,” he whispered. He was dimly aware of Gobber touching his back, helping him up, and guiding him towards the village.

Hiccup glanced back over his shoulder at the bola thrower, at the stick the strange sprite carried, and then at the place where Jokul Frosti lay in the snow. Everything was there, just as he had left it. It all looked so real to him. How could Stoick not see it?

“Gobber,” Hiccup breathed out. “You see Jokul, right?”

Gobber didn’t answer and gingerly pushed Hiccup through the forest.

…

News of Hiccup’s breakdown didn’t spread through the village like wildfire. Gobber and Stoick were keeping the strangeness close to their vests, downplaying it. They told everyone who asked that Hiccup had gotten into Stoick’s ale that day he came into the Great Hall proclaiming that he had managed to catch Jokul Frosti. After all, it wouldn’t do to have the chief’s son instilling disbelief and insanity. Stoick told Hiccup to stay in his room and Hiccup didn’t argue. He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. 

Hiccup tried to convince himself that he managed to drink a little ale somehow or else really had gone a little crazy. It happened to Vikings sometimes. The winters were too long and cold, the ale was brewed too strong, and it was lonely for children on Berk. 

Hiccup didn’t let himself think about the fact that ever since he had caught Jokul Frosti, he hadn’t seen any of the little quicksilver mirages of blue and white dancing at the edges of his vision. He pushed aside the logic and snuck a little ale at night after Stoick had gone to bed. Even with that, he still couldn’t quite make himself believe it.

A few days passed before Stoick decided to allow Hiccup outside with the stipulation that he go straight to Gobber’s shop and stay where the one-handed man could see him. Hiccup had no choice but to agree and trudged outside. Shockingly, the dense blanket of snow and ice had begun to melt. Hiccup didn’t let himself think about how he had captured the embodiment of winter and now it was warming up.

“Hey Gobber,” he said halfheartedly as he entered the shop.

Gobber looked up from the sword he was sharpening and gave Hiccup a small smile. “Hey, welcome back,” he said easily. “I could use you around the shop.”

“Thanks,” Hiccup muttered.

“Really,” Gobber said sympathetically. Then, he handed Hiccup a sword and said gruffly, “Sharpen this for me.”

Hiccup nodded and bent his head over his work. It was warm in front of the forge and he shrugged out of his fur-lined vest.

“It’s warmed up nicely, hasn’t it?” Gobber said conversationally. “We should be up to our eyes in snow by now. Maybe this is that ‘Global Warming’ everyone’s been talking about.”

If Gobber was baiting him into talking about Jokul Frosti, Hiccup didn’t take it. “It’s a nice change,” was all he said.

Gobber fell silent after that. He didn’t even sing.

Hiccup buried his mind in the practiced work of sharpening swords. He pumped the grindstone with one foot and pressed the sword down expertly. Even though he couldn’t swing a sword or an axe to save his life, he was increasingly great at sharpening them to perfection. Gobber complimented him frequently. There was no one who could get a sword sharper than Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. Hiccup smiled faintly to himself at the memory.

Gobber began to whistle and it was hard for Hiccup to hang onto his dour mood. It wasn’t as if this was the first time Stoick had yelled at him and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Hiccup couldn’t really believe that his father would disown him. 

Everything would be fine in a few more days, Hiccup told himself. This would pass, just like the blizzard had.

But, in the back of Hiccup’s mind, the curiosity returned. Why could he see Jokul Frosti when neither Gobber nor his father could? Had he really been hallucinating all this time or was there more to this than met the eye? He needed to find out for the sake of his sanity. If he never knew, he would certainly go crazy, but he had to lie low for now. He had to wait until Stoick and Gobber stopped watching him like hawks on the prowl. 

Hiccup bent closer to the grindstone and scrutinized the edge of the blade, testing it against his thumb. “Just a little more,” he murmured and pressed the sword back against the stone. Just a little longer and he could go back to Raven Point and see if Jokul Frosti remained where Hiccup had left him.

Then, he would know if he was crazy or not. Dread and excitement curled in Hiccup’s stomach.

…

Hiccup waited two more days before telling Gobber that he needed a little time alone to think about things. The big Viking had looked doubtful, but finally agreed once Hiccup promised to be back by lunchtime. Gobber hoped that Stoick wouldn’t notice that Hiccup was gone. 

Hiccup rushed off to Raven Point. A little thread of doubt needled the back of his mind. He tried to convince himself that the incarnation of winter wouldn’t have starved or frozen to death during the time Hiccup had spent under house arrest, but the worry lingered. What if he had managed to kill Jokul Frosti? The snow had begun to melt more and more as the days stretched on after all.

Hiccup finally found the clearing where he had captured the winter sprite. His bola thrower was still right where he had left it, looking neglected and hollow, and so was the staff, but the rest of the clearing was empty. 

Though the snow had melted in the rest of the village or decreased to dirty slush, this small area was coated with swirls of beautiful fernlike frost. Hiccup scanned the bushes and peeked under logs, working his way through the area in a spiral. The frost thickened, intensified, grew into little spires of ice and snow. Hiccup followed the odd sort of path. Finally, at the center of it all, pressed back against a deep drift of pristine white snow, Hiccup found the strange boy. 

He looked just the same, but Hiccup noticed several things he hadn’t when he had first captured Jokul Frosti. 

The bola had snared the slender sprite cruelly. His right arm was twisted behind his back at a painful angle and his legs were pressed together in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable. The rope had wrenched his ankle sideways and it was purple and swollen despite the pillow of snow it was propped on. The fall must also have been more painful than it looked. Bluish bruises marked the sprite’s face, his lower lip was split, and there was a large gash just above his bright blue eye that wept frozen blood down his face. The blood was startlingly red against so much paleness. Pine needles were stuck in his white hair and clung to his clothing.

“You came back,” the winter sprite breathed out and despite his situation, he smiled.

“Yeah,” Hiccup ventured and approached nervously. “Are you real? Am I hallucinating?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m real,” the sprite continued, but he looked as doubtful as Hiccup felt. “You can see me, right?”

Hiccup nodded slowly. “Can’t most people?”

The sprite shook his head. 

“But you’re… Jokul Frosti, right?” Hiccup asked.

The sprite’s brow lifted and he winced as the motion pulled the wound above his eye. “My name is Jack Frost,” he said.

“That’s close enough,” Hiccup said bitterly.

Jack gazed at him for a long moment, his eyes bright and his lips curved into a warm smile.

“What?” Hiccup demanded. “What are you smiling about?”

“You’re the first person to talk to me in two hundred years,” he said softly. “It’s nice.”

A little knot of sorrow settled in Hiccup’s stomach, cold and pained for this spirit-boy he didn’t even know. “Why can I see you when no one else can?” he asked.

Jack’s bright eyes slid sideways. “I don’t know…” he murmured and there was anguish in his voice. 

“If I come closer, will you attack me?” Hiccup asked.

For a moment, it looked as if Jack considered lying and threatening Hiccup, but the thought passed like two ships in the night. Jack shook his head. “No,” he confessed.

Hiccup inched closer, his boots crunching on the thick snow. “Are you hurt terribly?” he asked.

Jack looked down at his ankle and licked the split in his lip. “I’ve been better,” he said, “But this is… It’s worth it.” 

“Worth it?” Hiccup repeated curiously.

Jack met his gaze and held it. “To have someone talk to me, see me… After two hundred years alone, this is worth it.”

Hiccup’s breath caught in his chest. Even though he rarely managed to hold a conversation with Stoick that lasted longer than a minute, he couldn’t imagine never speaking to his father again. What would two hundred years of loneliness and abandonment feel like? He took a stumbling step backwards from Jack.

“Wait,” the winter spirit called out desperately. “Don’t go.”

Hiccup hesitated, lingering, staring at the white-skinned boy. 

“Watch this,” Jack said with a thin smile. Then, he breathed out a fantastic display of snowflakes. They swirled through the air as if imbued with individual will, dancing and floating like butterflies in spring. After a long moment in which Hiccup could only stare in surprise and awe, the flakes diminished and then disappeared. Jack’s chest lifted and his throat flashed with his breath.

“How can you do that?” Hiccup asked dumbly.

“Spirit of Winter,” Jack said easily. “Don’t go. I can show you more.”

Hiccup’s head nodded and his feet brought him closer without his permission. 

Jack’s smile deepened, brightened, until it reached his eyes. Again, he breathed in and let his breath out in a controlled rush. Frost plumed from his mouth and he closed his lips over it in an odd sort of way. Then, he breathed out again and managed to somehow create a lumpy snowman that performed a funny jig for Hiccup’s enjoyment. 

“It’s much better when I can use my hands,” Jack said apologetically, “or when I have my staff.” 

Hiccup eyed the strange boy, trying to decide if this was a trick to get the better of him and take revenge for capturing him. 

Jack’s face was honest and open, unguarded, and those bruises on his face were painful to look at. Hiccup had done that, had hurt him, and was still hurting him. The bola was designed to snare a dragon, not a boy slimmer though taller than Hiccup. It must be terribly painful.

Hiccup took the small dagger from his belt and then hesitated, “Are you going to attack me if I cut you loose?”

Jack shook his head. “Why would I?” Then, in a whisper that spoke volumes of past suffering, he asked, “Are the spirits here dangerous? Have they attacked you?”

“There are more like you?” Hiccup asked.

“Well, yes,” Jack murmured. “There are spirits everywhere. Spirits for holidays and seasons, some are more like gods, and then there’s Mother Nature. I’ve never met her, but I know she’s there.”

Hiccup could only stare, his mouth hanging open in shock.

Jack chuckled. 

Hiccup snapped his mouth closed and brandished his knife threateningly. “Are you here to invade Berk?”

Jack didn’t look worried. “No,” he said. “I’m just doing my rounds, bringing winter and such. I noticed all the dragons here. Are they always like that?”

Hiccup nodded mechanically. “Pretty much,” he admitted.

“That sucks,” Jack continued. “I tried to lay down some snow for you so your houses wouldn’t catch fire so easily.”

“You…” Hiccup stared at the spirit, taking in the thin spindly limbs and bloodied mouth. He was certainly well within striking distance, but Jack hadn’t made a move to harm him even though he had every reason to. “You… really are a… nice spirit, aren’t you?”

“I try to be,” Jack agreed.

Hiccup leaned forward nervously and cut the thick rope that bound the winter spirit. The weights and rope sank into the fluffy snow.

Jack let out a breath of relief that plumed with delicate snowflakes. “Thanks,” he said and brought his twisted arm back in front of his body. He rubbed it for a moment and then rolled up his sleeve to look at the skin beneath. Bruises had blossomed like black flowers, spanning the length of his thin arm and circling his narrow wrist. Then, he reached down and gently cradled his swollen ankle in his hands. Even as Hiccup watched, a translucent cast of ice spread over the damaged joint.

“Wow,” Hiccup breathed out.

Jack smiled at him. “I can do a lot more,” he said. “Do you want to see?”

Hiccup found himself nodding.

“Can you get my staff for me?” he asked.

Hiccup eyed Jack for a moment and then got to his feet. He hurried back into the clearing and collected Jack’s odd staff from the shadow of the bola thrower. Even though he half-expected Jack to be gone by the time he returned, the winter spirit remained exactly where he had been. His body was pillowed in the drift of snow and he had formed a snowball to press to the cut on his forehead.

“Thanks,” Jack and smiled winningly. “Watch this.”

Then, with a single wave of his staff, he conjured an entire fleet of ships that moved across the snowy landscape as if they really were in the ocean. He created dragons and mermaids, snowmen and angels, ladies and knights. Hiccup watched, awestruck, as Jack let the magic flow like an endless river. 

Abruptly, Hiccup became aware of the position of the sun. “Thor’s hammer!” he exclaimed.

Startled, Jack stared at him as he scrambled to his feet. “What is it?” he asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Hiccup said. “It’s just… I promised to be back for lunch. I can bring you something to eat later, if you want.”

“Can I come with you?” Jack asked.

For a moment, Hiccup’s heart pounded in horror. What would the village think if they saw Jack, flying, wrapped in ice and frosted with snowflakes? They would think Hiccup had gone crazy and that it was contagious. Stoick would—

“No one will be able to see me,” Jack added quietly with heartbreaking honesty. “In two hundred years, you’re the first.”

Hiccup wet his lips and then nodded. “Okay,” he agreed because he couldn’t bear to hear the sadness in Jack’s voice any longer. No one deserved to be alone and ignored for two hundred years, especially someone as sweet as Jack. “But you have to stay quiet.”

Jack nodded with a wry self-deprecating smile. “No one will hear me anyway,” he murmured. “I’m invisible.”

Hiccup hastily led the way back to the village with Jack floating behind him so he wouldn’t hurt his ankle further. Even though Hiccup had believed Jack’s sad story about not being seen for two hundred years, a part of him was still terrified that the village would be able to see Jack. Together, they stepped out of the forest and moved through the village. 

A few villagers asked Hiccup how he was or asked where Stoick was. Hiccup answered as best he could.

No one commented on Jack. He really was invisible.

“Oh, Hiccup,” Gobber called. “There you are! I was getting worried.”

“Sorry,” Hiccup said. “I got a little sidetracked.”

“That’s easy enough to do,” Gobber continued. “Come on. Let’s go to the Great Hall before all the good pieces of boar are gone.”

Hiccup nodded and followed Gobber quietly. He glanced over his shoulder at Jack, assuring himself that the spirit of winter was still there. Jack hovered just behind him, his hair glinting in the light and his eyes sparkling merrily. Hiccup turned his attention back to Gobber, but the one-handed man didn’t notice Jack either. Jack really was invisible to everyone except Hiccup.

X X X

This is where the first part of the title comes into play. Hiccup was aiming for Jack, but I think he hit more than he bargained for.

Questions, comments concerns?

Review!


	3. It's All in My Hands

I feel like I’m writing Jack a little too soft and sad, but I keep thinking that if Hiccup’s the first person to see Jack in two hundred years, he probably would act like that. He’d want to stay with Hiccup and talk to him. Hopefully, everyone else can think of it the same way.

X X X

True to his word, no one in the Great Hall was able to see Jack Frost. Hiccup ate quickly, stealing glances at Jack and then at the Vikings nearby. All was calm and jovial, as if there wasn’t a white-haired boy with his ankle cased in ice floating above their heads. Hiccup forced himself to swallow as he stared at Jack and then blindly took a sip of something too bitter to be water. He coughed into his hand, eyes watering slightly.

“Hiccup,” Gobber protested. “That’s mine.” Then, he took his mug of ale out of Hiccup’s reach. 

“Sorry,” Hiccup muttered and pushed away from the table. “I’m going to go home, okay?”

“Are you feeling alright?” Gobber asked, eying Hiccup suspiciously. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Hiccup said quickly. He gestured silently for Jack to follow and left the Great Hall.

“See?” Jack said once they were outside and no one was around to see Hiccup talking to himself. “I told you no one would be able to see me.”

Hiccup nodded and his head spun with this knowledge. 

“Where are we going?” Jack asked, floating along behind Hiccup like a moth on a tether and still drawn to the damaging flames. 

“To my house,” Hiccup said absently. His feet knew the path home and followed it easily. Hiccup shouldered his front door open, held it open long enough for Jack to slip inside, and then let it slam shut. The hearth was dark and empty. There was no sign of Stoick. Hiccup let out a breath of relief and led Jack upstairs to his bedroom.

“Nice place. Is this your room?” Jack remarked as he peered at the ornately-carved support beams and headboard. He drifted over to Hiccup’s desk and looked down at the detailed drawings for a moment. “Did you make all these things?” Before Hiccup could answer, Jack moved way and scrutinized something else. Hiccup’s bed was still unmade and yet it appeared to fascinate Jack. “Do you sleep on this?”

“Haven’t you ever seen a bed before?” Hiccup asked irritably.

“Well, yeah, but not this close,” Jack said and experimentally prodded the pillow with one long finger. “It doesn’t look very comfortable. Does Sandman bring you dreams here? What do you dream about?”

Hiccup sat down at his desk with a sigh. “What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have brought you with me,” he murmured and scrubbed his face with his hands.

Jack’s curiosity immediately sobered. He sank down to the floor and walked unsteadily towards Hiccup, leaning on his staff heavily to take the weight off his battered ankle. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I can stop, if I’m bothering you.”

Hiccup looked at Jack from between his fingers and let out his breath in a soft rush. 

Jack stood quietly a few feet away, balanced on one foot and occasionally running his tongue over the split in his lower lip. His fingers drummed a faint pattern on his staff and Hiccup watched the play of frost as it moved up and down Jack’s staff with his touch. Wow, Jack Frost’s powers really were amazing. Hiccup wished he could do something like that. Jack lifted one hand absently to brush a strand of snow-white hair from his eyes and winced as his fingers brushed over the gash in his forehead.

“You should clean that up,” Hiccup said before he could stop himself. 

Jack looked startled and smiled thinly as he ran his fingers along the crusted injury. “It’s okay,” he said. “This is nothing.”

“Really,” Hiccup protested. “Even a little wound can be dangerous if it gets infected.”

Jack tilted his head curiously. 

“Stay here.” Hiccup rose from his desk, headed downstairs, and returned a moment later with a strip of cloth and a small bowl of water. Jack hadn’t moved, as still and patient as any statue. Hiccup cleared a place on his desk and set down the items. Then, he waved Jack closer. “Come here.”

Jack floated closer, his toes just brushed the rough wood of Hiccup’s floor, with a nervousness that Hiccup didn’t fully understand.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Jack gave him a wry little look and then shook his head. “It’s not that,” he confessed. “It’s just… in two hundred years, no one’s ever tried to take care of me.”

Hiccup eyed Jack for a moment, trying to decide if that fact was disturbing or depressing. He settled for repeating, “No one?” 

Jack shook his head and wet his lips, probing the split carefully. 

“Sit down,” Hiccup said.

Jack slipped into the desk chair with his ankle stretched tenderly out before him and his fingers wrapped loosely around his staff. His body vibrated with energy and radiated cold. His threadbare clothes were dusted with frost and patched in places. Though Jack was a little taller than Hiccup, he was thin—almost painfully so—and his skin was as pale as parchment. His wrists were like twigs, his fingers just the same, and his waist was as narrow as a girl’s was. He smelled of peppermint, pine, and winter.

Hiccup moistened the cloth and then hesitated. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Why had he brought this invisible lonely spirit boy home with him? Why did he feel obligated to mend the hurt and fix the wounds? Why did he feel…?

“I can do it myself,” Jack offered after a moment.

Hiccup shook himself. “No,” he said. “You can’t even see it.” Then, gently, he dabbed at the gash on Jack’s forehead. A few stray droplets of pinkish water crystallized and froze. Hiccup breathed in sharply, studying the wintry power that coursed through Jack’s body. “Does that always happen?” Hiccup asked.

In answer, Jack stretched out his finger and touched the side of the small bowl. First, a stunning pattern of fernlike frost spread across the surface and the water crackled as it froze. An instant later, Jack withdrew his hand and tipped the bowl over. Hiccup gasped, worried for the papers spread on his desk, but the bowl was harmlessly frozen solid.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“I can do that to entire lakes,” Jack offered with a shy smile. “I could show you. Can you ice skate?”

Hiccup nodded.

Jack’s fragile smile widened and he floated out of the chair like a leaf borne on the wind. “Want to go?” he asked. 

Jack did everything with an eagerness that Hiccup was beginning to understand. Hiccup was the first person to see, to talk to, and to touch Jack Frost in two hundred years. Jack was as eager to please him as any loyal pet. He would do anything to would make Hiccup stay a little longer, to speak a little more, to care just a little bit.

Hiccup couldn’t imagine that kind of loneliness.

“Sure,” he said. 

Jack’s pale face split into a smile that could have melted the hardest heart. “Really?”

Hiccup shrugged. “Why not?”

Buoyant with joy, Jack flew to the door and gusted down the stairs. Hiccup discarded the bloodied cloth and followed quickly. Jack drifted through Berk like a whirlwind, invisible and silent, and yet careful to avoid being passed through like a ghost. Hiccup stopped worrying about whether or not other people would see the frost spirit. 

Just off Raven Point, Hiccup led Jack to a medium-sized pond framed with dense pines. No one ever came out here because they were worried about wild dragons, but Hiccup figured he would be all right as long as the unbridled spirit of winter was with him. What were a few fire-breathing dragons to someone who could freeze lakes solid?

“Can you freeze all this?” Hiccup asked as he tried to calculate just how much water there was.

“Of course,” Jack said. Then, he lowered himself from the sky and stepped lightly onto the surface of the lake. A beautiful pattern of frost spread out beneath his feet, creating a fragile surface that Jack strode across with careless ease. When he reached the other side of the small lake, he stopped and turned back to look at the frozen surface.

Hiccup stared at it uncertainly. “You’re sure it’s solid?”

Jack nodded. “Yes,” he said. “But go ahead. Throw a rock.”

Hiccup picked up a boulder the size of his head and hurled it as far as he could (which wasn’t as far as he would have liked to admit). It hit the icy surface with a dull thud and the ice remained as sturdy as any stone. “Wow,” Hiccup said again.

Jack grinned and skated across the ice on his bare feet.

“Aren’t you cold?” Hiccup asked.

“No,” Jack said and looked down at his bare toes. “I don’t really feel the cold.”

“Why not?” 

Jack rolled his shoulders. “It wouldn’t really do for the spirit of winter to be affected by the weather, would it? Besides,” he said, “I’m sort of… cold, anyway.”

Hiccup lifted a brow and stepped delicately onto the ice. His boots slid a little, but he was able to make his way to where Jack stood in the middle of the lake. “What do you mean?”

“I’m cold,” Jack said plainly.

“But you just said—”

“Really,” Jack insisted and then held out his hand. “Feel.”

Hiccup stared at him suspiciously for a moment and then gingerly took Jack’s hand in his own. He was startled by just how cold the boy’s skin was. He wouldn’t go as far as to say that Jack was the same temperature as the snow, but he certainly wasn’t warm to a human standard. His skin was the same cool shade as the air around them. He was sort of room temperature, like ale when it was left out too long.

Hiccup was about to pull his hand back when he looked into Jack’s pale face. The winter sprite had an expression of unabashed delight on his features. His blue eyes sparkled, his lips were curved upwards, and the pulse was beating in his throat. He tilted Hiccup’s hand in his own, taking in the faint dusting of freckles and the warm skin, and carded his thumb gingerly over Hiccup’s rough knuckles and calluses.

Hiccup’s first impulse was to jerk away, but he stifled it. Jack really hadn’t had any contact in two hundred years. Something as simple as a handshake was a little blessing, a secret pleasure. It was unfair that something so small and easy—something Hiccup had taken for granted his entire life—could mean so much to the lonely spirit. So, Hiccup didn’t pull away. He let Jack continue to grip his warm hand.

A few moments later, Jack gasped and let go too nonchalantly. He glanced at Hiccup, realized the Viking had been allowing him that small contact, and smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s okay,” Hiccup said and was surprised to hear just how much he meant it. “It must have been lonely, huh? Being alone all this time?”

Jack nodded in a way that said words would never be able to express just how terrible it had been. Then, his expression schooled itself out of sadness and into a mask of happiness. “Let’s skate,” he said eagerly. “Let me see the bottom of your boot.”

Hiccup lifted his foot and, with a single touch, Jack crafted a blade of ice on the bottom of one and then the other. Hiccup tested the makeshift skates and then slid a few paces with surprising ease. The ice was stronger than it looked. Grinning, Jack balanced on one foot and slid after him like a pale shadow.

…

Hiccup wasn’t sure how Jack managed to convince him to let him come home with him that night, but Hiccup found himself leading the frost spirit back to his house as the sun sank low over the ocean. Stoick the Vast wasn’t home yet so Hiccup brought Jack directly to his room and closed the door with an exhausted sigh. Hiccup’s clothes were sodden from his graceless attempts at ice skating. Though he hated to admit it, Jack was as light and poised as a flower, even injured and leaning on his staff. 

Jack caught Hiccup looking at him and smiled.

Despite himself, Hiccup flushed and looked sharply away. What was wrong with him? Why did some part of his heart flutter every time Jack looked over at him with those bright blue eyes and smile? He was a Viking, damn it!

“Thanks,” Jack said suddenly.

Pulled from his thoughts, Hiccup asked, “For what?”

“For going skating with me,” Jack continued with a light smile. 

Hiccup ran his hand through his hair, embarrassed by Jack’s gratitude. “No problem,” he said. “It was fun.”

Then, outside, Hiccup heard the sudden uproar that announced the invasion of the dragons. He cursed under his breath and rushed to the window. He pushed the shutters open a few inches and looked out at the darkened sky. The air howled with the beats of countless wings and warmed with the presence of so much fire. 

“What is it?” Jack asked, floating up a Hiccup’s back.

“It’s the dragons,” Hiccup said. “I have to go. I have to help fend them off.”

“You fight with them?” Jack asked. “Why?”

“Because they’re beasts. They take all our sheep and cause lots of damage.”

“They’re just animals,” Jack said.

Startled, Hiccup stared at him for a moment. He had always known that dragons were only animals, but to hear Jack say it so plainly made it seem almost silly that Hiccup entire village was under attack. It sounded almost as if Jack considered the dragons to be the equivalent of housecats. 

“I can get rid of them,” Jack offered. 

“All by yourself?” Hiccup asked and then could have kicked himself when Jack’s smiling face washed with sad loneliness.

“Sure,” was all Jack said.

Then, Jack Frost nudged Hiccup aside with his staff, put his good foot on the windowsill, and pushed out into the sky. For a moment, he hung there like a shard of the moon as he took in the sight of the village, as if deciding where to start. Then, he swooped away from Hiccup’s house and hesitated among the clouds like a crescent smile. Hiccup remained at the window, watching, hardly daring to breathe. He couldn’t believe that Jack—a boy thinner than Hiccup and certainly less armed than any Viking—was seriously going to try to get rid of all the dragons invading Berk. 

Though it was hard to see from this distance, Hiccup saw Jack cup his hands around his mouth and breathe out a fantastic display of sparkling snowflakes. They almost appeared to glow with a light that came from within, but it might have been a trick of the firelight. Jack moved his staff in an arch and a gust of wind followed loyally. The breeze buffeted the dragons and swirled the snowflakes. Jack laughed then and it was a happy light sound over the roar of Vikings waiting for battle. One of the dragons answered his laugh with a deep chattering sound.

Then, almost as one, the dragons turned away from Berk and followed Jack as he swooped back over the ocean. Ten or fifteen dragons remained behind, terrorizing Berk, but what Jack had managed to do was amazing. Hiccup could see Stoick fighting back a Monstrous Nightmare, but a moment later, Jack returned. He flew low over Berk with a bitter wind howling at his heels. He gusted through the narrow alleys, around the houses, and between the Vikings. With little effort, he rounded up the few lingering dragons, even the Nightmare which had now lit itself ablaze. 

The wind corralled them and Jack directed it with his staff. A moment later, he towed the angry dragons away from Berk and vanished into the night. The Vikings remained standing in the square, axes still raised in shock at what had just happened. Even though they couldn’t see Jack, they had seen the dragons’ sudden departure. 

“Don’t let your guard down!” Hiccup heard his father shout. “The devils will be back.”

“They won’t be back,” Jack said as he materialized just to the left of Hiccup’s window with a bright smile. “I brought them out to sea. There’s a school of sturgeon stuck out there in an ice pool right now. They’re having a feast.”

“How did you do that?” Hiccup demanded once his shock abated. He stepped aside to allow Jack in through the window.

Jack landed with a thump and then hissed as his twisted ankle reminded him just how swollen it was. 

Hiccup immediately ushered him into his desk chair and pushed him down into a seated position. “How did you get all the dragons to just leave like that?” he repeated.

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said with a small shrug. “I’ve been invisible to people for two hundred years, but animals can see me so… I play with the dragons sometimes.”

“You play with them?” Hiccup repeated incredulously.

Jack nodded and ran his hand lightly over his ankle, reforming some of the cast with new ice and wiggling his toes experimentally. “It’s easy enough. I just have to be careful and gentle. A spirit of winter isn’t all that great deep fried,” he said and winced at some memory he wasn’t willing to share.

Hiccup just stared at him, dumbstruck.

Jack glanced at him and smiled. “Do you want to try?”

“What?” Hiccup sputtered. “Are you insane? I’m a Viking! I can’t be off playing with dragons. They’re the enemy of my people! My father would—” Hiccup cut himself off sharply and glowered at Jack for a moment. “No,” he said firmly.

Jack curled his fingers loosely around his staff and leaned forward. “Are you sure?”

Hiccup hesitated for a heartbeat, remembering the Night Fury he had managed to down and had been unable to kill. He still wondered what the dragon’s scales might have felt like beneath his palm. Then, he realized that Jack was still looking at him and abruptly protested, “Yes! I’m sure!”

Jack might have been alone for two hundred years, but he wasn’t stupid. He had watched people through windows, studying their mannerisms and the way they interacted with each other. He recognized the hesitation Hiccup had shown and pounced on it with the same eagerness he showed for everything else. “In the morning, I have something to show you,” Jack said, “Something I think is amazing.”

“What?” Hiccup asked.

Jack smiled mysteriously. “In the morning,” he repeated.

Hiccup folded his arms over his chest as he had often seen his father do, but it was far less imposing when Hiccup did it. Jack didn’t look daunted in the least, but Hiccup continued, “Tell me right now, Jack Frost.”

“In the morning,” Jack said again.

Hiccup stared at him for a moment and then grinned wickedly. He knew what he was about to do was cruel, but he wanted to know what Jack was hiding. “I’ll let you stay the night if you tell me now,” he offered.

Jack drifted away from the desk like a feather, as unaffected by Hiccup as any dragon. “You’ll let me stay the night anyway,” he said confidently.

The air rushed out of Hiccup’s puffed-up chest. Jack had called his bluff and he didn’t know what to do now. “Fine,” he muttered. “But you can’t sleep in my bed!” 

“If you let me sleep in your bed, I’ll tell you now,” Jack said as he absently prodded Hiccup’s pillow.

For a moment, Hiccup seriously considered Jack’s offer, but then he heard the door open downstairs. He didn’t want to try to explain to his father what he was doing sleeping on the floor while an invisible spirit boy slept in his bed. “No!” Hiccup snapped before his curious mouth could agree.

Jack laughed. It was a light sweet sound so much like wind chimes that Hiccup couldn’t help the smile that spread across his own face. As if expecting this, Jack drifted into the rafters of Hiccup’s ceiling and settled against a crossbeam with his staff draped alongside his body. After a moment, Jack went silent and still. His thin chest rose and fell peacefully.

“Are you asleep?” Hiccup called quietly.

Jack didn’t answer, deeply asleep already.

It must have been rough spending those nights bound by the bola in the middle of the woods while fire-breathing dragons filled the sky. He probably hadn’t been able to rest comfortably, if he had been able to at all. His leg hung down over the edge of the rafter, bruised and swollen despite the cast of ice that had been on it most of the day. A stab of guilt moved through Hiccup’s heart.

“Sorry,” Hiccup whispered to the sleeping spirit.

Jack didn’t respond save for a soft exhalation of breath that was lit with snowflakes.

…

“Why are you taking me to the cove at Raven Point? Don’t you know that’s a completely pointless little cove? It’d be hard enough for a dragon to climb out of there and if we get stuck down there, I will never forgive you,” Hiccup prattled as he followed Jack through the snow-dusted woods the next morning. 

Jack chuckled to himself, but ignored Hiccup’s endless questions thoroughly. Hiccup had been trying to get Jack to spill his secret since breakfast and Jack was studiously unwilling to give it up. “You’ll see,” he repeated for the hundredth time. He stretched out his hand and ran his fingertip along the bark of a nearby tree. 

Hiccup’s voice fell momentarily silent as he paused to watch the delicate curls spread across the bark. The crystals glittered in the sunlight, but Jack didn’t stop to admire his handiwork. The frost-child continued on the path that only he knew, drifting like a leaf on the current of cool ocean breeze. 

Hiccup followed Jack in silence for a moment, studying the floating winter spirit. His ankle was still darkly bruised and sprained, but Jack had said it would probably be better by tomorrow if he kept off it. To Hiccup, it sounded as if Jack had been hurt a lot, but Jack was always unwilling to speak of the past. Hiccup figured that someone had hurt Jack and didn’t pry. 

Jack was so slender, so pale, that it almost seemed like he would melt away into a hallucination at any moment. Then, Jack glanced back over his narrow shoulder and smiled in such a way that Hiccup knew he would never be able to imagine someone like Jack. 

Jack was different—different from everyone else in Berk, different in similar ways that Hiccup was—and that was a good thing. 

Snapping himself from his thoughts, Hiccup continued to question Jack, “And why am I carrying a smelly cod?”

Jack continued to smile his mysterious little grin and led Hiccup deeper into the woods on their way to the cove. 

Just when Hiccup thought he was finally going to go insane waiting, they arrived at the mouth of the small cove. It was really more like a depression in the earth with high walls and a small pond at the very bottom. (Hiccup had heard that the other teens went skinny-dipping late at night in the pond, but he had never been invited.) There was an unsteady footpath that humans could use to reach the bottom, but it wasn’t really worth it. A few odd fish lived in the pond, but other than that, the cove was worthless.

“Here we are,” Jack said as they ducked beneath a swath of low-hanging branches. 

Hiccup stepped up beside him, standing comfortably close to the edge of the rock face as he peered down at the cove. From his perspective, it was spectacularly empty. “What?” he asked Jack.

The frost spirit grinned a little broader and pointed at something.

Hiccup turned to look and still couldn’t see anything. Then, he spotted a few dark scales and bent to pick one up. “A Night Fury scale?” he asked as he turned it over in his hands. “You brought me all this way with a smelly fish to show me a few scales?”

Jack chuckled. “You’re so impatient,” he said lightly.

Hiccup glowered at him. “I’m not immortal, like you.”

A sliver of sadness moved through Jack’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “Look a little closer,” he said.

With a sigh, Hiccup did. He narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun off the snow. For a long moment, all he saw was grass and trees and partly-frozen water. Then, with a sudden intake of breath that nearly knocked him off his feet, Hiccup spotted the Night Fury.

The dragon was curled up in the shadows, his wings folded and his tail tucked in a way that was almost adorable. Only his yellow-green eyes showed in the shade, standing out like jewels. The dragon had seen them, but didn’t appear inclined to attack. 

Jack stepped over the edge of the drop and drifted to the ground like a leaf. 

“Jack!” Hiccup whispered as loud as he dared.

The frost spirit ignored him.

Hiccup had a vision of Jack melted into a puddle and scrambled down the footpath after his new friend. He was panting by the time he caught up with Jack and the spirit was approaching the dragon without a care in the world. Hiccup grabbed his elbow and jerked him backwards.

“What are you thinking?” Hiccup hissed, his eyes darting from the dragon to Jack and back again. “That’s a Night Fury!”

“He’s cute right?” Jack asked with an easy smile. 

“C-cute?” Hiccup sputtered. “He’s a dragon! He’s the most dangerous species, too!”

“You still have that cod, right?” Jack continued as if Hiccup wasn’t dragging on his arm. “Why don’t you give it to him? He looks hungry.”

“H-h-hungry?” Hiccup gasped and suddenly became aware of the cold fish he was still holding in his free hand. A few minutes ago, the cod had been inconvenient and smelly, but now it was a death sentence. With a sharp un-Viking-like cry, Hiccup tossed the fish in the dragon’s general direction and scurried away. When he halfway up the footpath, he stopped and turned back.

Jack and the dragon were both regarding him with equally jewel-colored eyes.

“What are you doing?” Jack asked Hiccup.

“Running for my life,” Hiccup said flatly.

Jack glanced at the dragon. “Yeah, he looks completely ready to grind your bones,” he said.

As if on cue, the dragon lazily got up and walked over to the cod. He sniffed it delicately, opened a mouth that was empty of teeth, and then lifted it into his mouth with his long forked tongue. Suddenly, teeth snapped out. He chewed, swallowed, and then perched contentedly on his haunches. He surveyed Jack for a moment, scented the air in his direction, and apparently didn’t find it to his liking since he turned his attention to Hiccup again. 

“Toothless?” Hiccup breathed out before common sense overrode his curiosity.

Every fiber of Hiccup’s body screamed for him to run, but Jack was standing on one foot so nonchalantly with his staff slung over his shoulders. The dragon wasn’t really a flaming ball of death, either. Hiccup found himself wondering if he had managed to befriend the invisible spirit of winter, then why couldn’t he get along with a dragon. Steeling himself, Hiccup took a deep breath and climbed back down off the footpath. The dragon was a few paces away from Jack, his tail sliding back and forth lightly. 

Hiccup managed to walk all the way to Jack’s side before the trembling in his legs became apparent. “You know,” he said to Jack. “Dragons always go for the kill.”

“Well,” Jack said and breathed out some snowflakes. “This dragon already had a chance to kill you and didn’t.”

“What?” Hiccup gasped.

Jack tilted his chin at the Night Fury. “This is the dragon you caught,” he said. “I watched you free him, remember?”

Hiccup gaped at the dragon and then at Jack. “Why didn’t he fly away? Why’s he down here in this cove?”

“He’s hurt,” Jack said softly, “like me. Your bola thrower is nothing to mess with.”

A little bubble of guilt welled up in Hiccup’s throat as he looked at Jack’s swollen ankle and split lip. Yet again, Hiccup had hurt someone without intending to. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Jack glanced at Hiccup and smiled thinly, forgivingly. 

“Will he be okay?” Hiccup asked after a moment of silence.

Jack shook his head. “Probably not,” he said. “His tail is…”

Hiccup glanced back at the dragon and studied him closer, taking in his wings and tail with a critical eye. He noticed now that half of the dragon’s tale was perfect and the other side was nothing more than some strips of tattered skin. “Did the bola do that?”

Jack didn’t answer and that was enough.

“I can probably help him,” Hiccup said, tilting his head and examining the dragon’s structure. “I could build something to replace that, but… I’d have to get close to him.”

Jack nodded. “Why don’t you try?” he asked.

“Try what?” Hiccup asked.

“Getting closer. I doubt he’ll hurt you.”

“It’s the doubt that worries me,” Hiccup said suspiciously. 

“Don’t worry,” Jack said with a smile that reached the depths of his eyes. “If anything bad happens, I can grab you and get you out of there in a second. Spirit of winter, capable of flight and instant blizzards, remember?”

As much as Hiccup hated to admit it, but that did make him feel much better. He had seen Jack drive off countless of dragons just the night before. He had a feeling Jack would be even faster if he only had one dragon to deal with. Keeping that thought in mind, Hiccup took a deep breath and walked nervously towards the dragon. The Night Fury didn’t move and watched him approach with bright eyes.

Hiccup stretched out his hand and the dragon chuffed. Emboldened, Hiccup took a step closer and felt the dragon’s warm breath on his skin. The dragon opened his toothless mouth, snapped out his retractable teeth, and bared them. Hiccup drew his hand back and glanced nervously at Jack.

The frost sprite was watching him closely, coiled like a spring.

Hiccup took a deep breath, turned away from the dragon, and stretched out his hand blindly. Again, he felt the dragon’s warm breath on his hand, but he didn’t hear the dragon growl. Jack watched as the dragon gazed at Hiccup, appeared to consider biting off his outstretched hand, and then hesitated completely. The dragon’s eyes were bright and then they softened. He leaned forward slightly, just a hair, and then hesitated again. Hiccup hadn’t moved. He remained poised, his hand reaching out.

Jack didn’t move, but he was prepared to leap into a fray at a moment’s notice.

Then, slowly, the Night Fury closed the remaining distance between them. He pressed his nose into Hiccup’s hand and closed his bright eyes. A little tremor of shock and awe ran through Hiccup’s body. Cautiously, as if thinking he was in a dream, Hiccup lifted his head and look at the dragon. Sure enough, he really was touching the dragon. The Night Fury’s scales were cool and almost soft beneath his palm, not slimy like he had imagined. In fact, it was incredibly pleasant.

Hiccup glanced over at Jack and beamed. Then, the dragon opened his eyes and pulled away slightly to study Hiccup with a tilt of his head. He purred in his throat and Hiccup reached out to touch him again, stroking the dragon’s nose. Jack didn’t approach and a moment later, Hiccup pried himself away from the dragon and returned to the frost spirit’s side.

“You’ve done that before,” Hiccup accused with a broad smile.

Shockingly, Jack shook his head. “Are you kidding?” he said. “Those dragons are so dangerous. I’ve never gone near one before, but since you freed him and all, I figured…”

Hiccup’s mouth dropped open and he shouted, “You mean you had no idea he was going to be friendly?!”

Jack smiled apologetically. “I was pretty sure he would be,” he said.

“Pretty sure!” Hiccup yelled and lunged to grab Jack.

The winter sprite leaped into the sky and hung there just out of reach.

Hiccup was about to try to strangle him anyway when the dragon made a sad noise deep in his chest. He glanced over his shoulder at the dragon and then turned away from Jack with a sigh. A moment later, Jack landed lightly beside him.

“What are you going to name him?” Jack asked.

“I was thinking… Toothless,” Hiccup said.

“Toothless?” Jack repeated.

“It’s not as if I’m going to keep him,” Hiccup explained. “I’ll make him a tail and then he can fly away.”

Jack nodded and reached out to gingerly squeeze Hiccup’s warm shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I knew if I showed you… you’d help him. You’re a good person, Hiccup.”

Hiccup didn’t know what to say to that so he just smiled and folded his hand over Jack’s. He tried to pretend he didn’t see the way the warm touch affected Jack as the lonely frost-child smiled with obvious delight. Jack squeezed Hiccup’s bony shoulder slightly and Hiccup ran his thumb over the smooth bumps of Jack’s knuckles. Jack stepped closer to Hiccup until the young Viking could feel Jack’s radiating chill. After a moment, Jack forced himself to pull away.

“Thanks,” Jack said shyly.

“No problem,” Hiccup said and he meant it. It was so easy to make Jack happy that Hiccup wanted nothing more than to see him smile.

…

Over the course of the next few days, Jack’s ankle healed completely and he let the cast of ice melt away. The split in his lip still lingered, but would heal completely in just a few more days. Then, Jack and Hiccup worked together with the Night Fury, Toothless. While Jack was clever with centuries of knowledge, Hiccup was astoundingly crafty and had the skills to use what he knew to the fullest. It took Hiccup little over a few hours to create a new tail for the injured dragon and the two of them brought it to the cove to try out.

Jack heaved down the large basket of fish and leaped away on a gust of wind before Toothless came over. He stood to the side, out of the way, with his fingers curled into some invisible handhold on his staff while Toothless ate. Meanwhile, Hiccup did his best to get a hold of Toothless’s tail and fasten the new device in place.

“It looks good,” Hiccup said to Jack as he sat back slightly to survey his invention. “I think that will work.”

Toothless lifted his head from the fish and experimentally tried to pull his tail out from beneath Hiccup. When the dragon realized what the two strange humans had done for him, his wings dropped with surprise. Then, with eagerness borne of being trapped in this tiny cove for days on end, Toothless raised his wings left the ground behind with one powerful stroke.

Hiccup’s words were cut off in a scream of shock and terror.

“Hiccup!” Jack shouted. 

Immediately, Jack gusted after him, but the Night Fury was the fastest breed of dragon and Toothless already had an unfair lead on Jack. The winter spirit could move with the speed of the wind, but Toothless was self-propelled. Hiccup watched in horror as Jack stretched his body flat and tried to scrape more speed from the wind. He stretched out his hand and Hiccup reached for him, but Jack was still a few inches away. Desperately, Jack surged forward with the wind, stretching his healed body to the limits, but Hiccup remained out of reach, hanging onto Toothless’s tail for dear life.

It was then that Hiccup realized the tail he had built was flapping uselessly. It wasn’t catching any wind or helping to steer. Toothless was still basically injured and therefore unable to fly. The dragon abruptly let out a startled cry and dropped several inches through the air, wings beating wildly. The ground was getting too close for comfort and Jack was still too far away to grab Hiccup and whisk him to safety. Hiccup had a moment of horrified clarity in which he envisioned himself splattered all over the ground. At least that would solve the problems with his father.

“Hiccup!” Jack shouted again, straining to catch up.

Hiccup was jolted from his morbid thoughts abruptly and stared into Jack’s concerned eyes for one heartbeat. Toothless’s flight pattern dropped again, leaving Hiccup’s stomach behind. Jack waved his staff, creating a powerful updraft that kept them from crashing to the rocky ground below, but it wasn’t enough. Regardless of Jack’s efforts, the ground was getting painfully closer. Toothless needed to fly or they were both dead. With no other choice, Hiccup grabbed the new tail and jerked it open. The wind caught and Toothless soared into the sky.

Jack’s blue eyes widened and a little smile split his face, but he continued to follow. 

“Oh Odin,” Hiccup said as Toothless’s flight leveled out. “It’s working!” He turned the tail and was surprised to find that Toothless banked to the left as easily as if Hiccup had asked him to.

Jack let out a whoop of joy and swooped after them. The wind, guided by Jack, buffeted beneath the dragon’s wings, lifting and steering him with gentle currents, as Hiccup used the makeshift tail to guide Toothless. After a moment, they circled down back over the cove and Toothless appeared to realize that Hiccup was still hanging onto his tail. The dragon dipped his head, looked at Hiccup, glided low over the small pond, and whipped Hiccup off with one solid movement.

Yelping, Hiccup flew off the tail and would have crashed into the water if not for Jack being so close. Jack’s cold fingers closed around his wrist and lifted him easily. Being carried by the wind was strange, stranger even than riding on a dragon, and Hiccup giggled nervously as Jack held him aloft. Together, they watched as the tail folded uselessly and Toothless crashed down into the water with a disgruntled sound. The dragon flailed his way out of the water and sat at the bank, looking dejected and wet.

“I think you need to redesign that,” Jack said to Hiccup as he gently lowered the young Viking back to solid ground.

Hiccup pushed his hands through his hair, groaning. “Redesign it? Are you kidding me?”

Jack touched down gently beside Hiccup without letting go of the young Viking’s wrist and a pretty pattern of frost spread beneath Jack’s bare feet, distracting Hiccup briefly.

“I’ll try,” Hiccup said finally. “Maybe I can rig it somehow to…” He trailed off, thinking. There didn’t seem to be any feasibly way to fix the tail. It wasn’t alive, had no muscles or bones, and therefore wasn’t movable. “It needs some kind of device,” Hiccup said to Jack thoughtfully. “Like a stirrup or a switch, but I don’t know how a dragon could use something like that.”

Jack’s cool fingers absently traced along the bare skin at Hiccup’s wrist. “But a human could, right?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup said and tried not to give away just how distracting the feather-light touch was. “A person could, but I still don’t know about a dragon…”

“It sounds to me like he needs a rider,” Jack remarked, sliding his fingers around Hiccup’s wrist and tracing the veins lightly. A small dusting of frost spread across Hiccup’s skin and the young Viking shivered, but didn’t pull away. Jack was growing increasingly touchy, but Hiccup couldn’t say he minded. Jack’s touch was so light, so timid, and it made Jack so happy. 

“I guess that would work,” Hiccup said softly, fighting to pull his focus from Jack’s caress. 

Jack smiled at him, wide and cheeky. 

It took a moment for Hiccup to realize what he had just agreed to. “Oh Thor,” he groaned.

“At least give it a try,” Jack said and finally released Hiccup’s wrist. “You might like it. Flying is great.”

“Fine, sure,” Hiccup muttered and brushed some frost off his skin. “I’ll try to redesign the tail so that a rider can operate it, but I’m not promising anything else.”

“That’s good enough,” Jack said and smiled broadly. He floated into the sky like an un-tethered kite and drifted just above the treetops.

Toothless gazed up at Jack longingly and purred sadly in his chest. Then, he looked over at Hiccup with a yearning that was so human, so much like Jack’s, that it broke Hiccup’s heart. Besides, Hiccup wasn’t going to admit it to Jack just yet, but he had loved flying with Toothless even for those short terrifying moments. It was the greatest feeling of freedom and strength Hiccup had ever felt and Odin knew he didn’t feel like that very often.

X X X

Questions, comments, concerns?

Please, review!


	4. What Can I Do?

These chapters are crazy long… For some freakish reason, when I switched from the last chapter to this one, I started writing in present tense and had to fix everything…

X X X

At night, Jack slept in the rafters of Hiccup’s ceiling, breathing out snowflakes, while Hiccup lay awake looking at them. The flakes danced and sparkled in the moonlight, beautiful, magical, but no sight was as striking as Jack Frost himself. The spirit slept nestled in the crossbeam with his long arm or leg dangling over the side and his staff pressed along his body like a dear friend. The moonlight played off his white skin and hair, glistened on the frost that coated his clothes, and caressed the planes of his face.

Hiccup rolled over and mashed his face into the pillow. 

He thought of Astrid Hofferson. There was no arguing that he liked her and wanted her—he had for as long as he had been thinking about girls and so did everyone else in the village. She was beautiful, but it felt different to think of her than it did to think of Jack. Astrid was stunning and strong with her plaited honey-blond hair and deep ocean-colored eyes. When Hiccup imagined her without her armor, the blood rushed to his face and then went south. 

Yet, Jack Frost was a puzzle Hiccup couldn’t quite place. Jack was stunning in a different way from Astrid, but no less beautiful for it. The frost that played beneath his every step was the most gorgeous thing Hiccup had ever seen, but he couldn’t recreate the pattern. Jack’s pale skin, snow-white hair, and bright blue eyes were something out of a fairytale. Hiccup tried to stop himself from imagining the spread of white skin and flat planes that surely lay beneath Jack’s blue shirt and cloak, but he couldn’t. 

When Jack brushed by, touching Hiccup either accidentally or purposefully, he always smiled shyly through his lashes and shivered with undiluted delight. Hiccup kept wondering what it would be like to touch Jack in all places no one else ever had—which was virtually the invisible spirit’s entire body. He wondered if Jack would continue to smile shyly, if he was writhe and whisper, if he would spread beautiful frost everywhere.

It was hard to say whether Hiccup actively wanted Jack or not. He wanted to touch Jack, to feel him, simply because Jack had never been touched before. Jack had been alone for so long and Hiccup wanted to see him smile without the edge of sadness touching his lips, but his blood didn’t boil with the thought. Hiccup couldn’t say he wanted Jack the same way he wanted Astrid. 

Maybe that was because he could really have Jack. 

Being with Astrid was more like an unattainable dream, just like making Stoick proud.

However, all that was about to change…

Hiccup had been spending more and more time with Toothless over the past few days, playing with him and learning about him and jotting all his notes in his little book. The boy and dragon had already built a surprisingly strong bond. It took Hiccup a few days to construct a saddle and a stirrup so he could control Toothless’s homemade tail. Together, he and Jack returned to the cove to try it out. When Hiccup revealed the new saddle, Toothless playfully ran from him, but it didn’t take long for Hiccup to catch him while Jack flitted overhead.

“He likes you,” Jack remarked as Hiccup fastened the saddle in place and Toothless sat patiently.

“He’d better,” Hiccup said as he did one final check of the buckles. “You have no idea what my father would say if he knew I was doing this. He’d probably disown me.”

“He wouldn’t go that far,” Jack assured him.

Hiccup didn’t remind Jack about Stoick’s threat to disown him if he didn’t stop prattling on about Jokul Frosti. If only Stoick could see Jack… Yet as Hiccup gazed up at the lonely spirit, he thought maybe it was best that Stoick couldn’t see Jack after all. Jack was too eager to please for a kind word or a soft touch. Stoick wouldn’t necessarily take advantage of that, but he would certain use Jack to better the village.

“What?” Jack asked when he realized Hiccup was staring up at him. 

“Nothing,” Hiccup said and climbed into the saddle. “Ready for our first test flight?”

“I’ll catch you if you fall,” Jack promised.

Hiccup smiled uneasily as he fit his foot into the stirrup and pressed down. As planned, the makeshift tail opened and angled appropriately as Hiccup moved his foot. Toothless peered backwards at it and then rumbled deep in his chest in what might have been approval. 

“Okay,” Hiccup said. “Let’s go.”

Jack was already in the sky, the wind circling his lean body obediently, and it took one downward stroke of Toothless’s wings to bring them abreast of Jack. Hiccup adjusted the tail and the three of them moved through the trees like leaves. Though Jack was considerably more agile, Toothless easily kept up with the winter sprite.

“Cool,” Hiccup said and glanced back at the tail. He tilted it a new way and Toothless banked to the right. Jack swept after them, laughing, and the sound was contagious. Hiccup chuckled as they dove upwards into the clouds. He stretched out one hand and felt the damp texture. “Weird,” he said. “I always thought they’d be fluffier.”

Jack laughed again and crafted a snowball out of thin air. “Clouds are all water. Where do you think rain comes from?”

“Frey,” Hiccup said plainly. (1)

Jack glanced at Hiccup questioningly and then hurled the snowball at him.

With a yelp, Hiccup angled the tail and Toothless dropped down a drastic distance that gave them more than enough space to avoid Jack’s snowball. The frost spirit swooped nervously after them, making sure Hiccup was safe. The concern in his blue eyes was touching, but he smiled cheekily after a moment.

“Is the tough dragon-riding Viking afraid of a little snowball?” Jack teased.

Hiccup patted Toothless on the back of the head and the dragon opened his mouth in a fire-ready growl. “Do you want to taunt someone armed with a flame thrower, winter sprite?”

A layer of frost spanned over Jack’s cheeks in an embarrassed flush. “I take it back,” he said.

Now, it was Hiccup’s turn to laugh.

…

The bright midday sun stretched in a singular band across the floorboards of Hiccup’s room. 

Jack was lounging in the rafters of Hiccup’s ceiling when the young Viking came home in a huff. Jack immediately dropped down from the beams and approached with his staff slung over his shoulders nonchalantly. Hiccup put down his horned helmet on the desk and then slammed himself into his desk chair. He immediately put his face in his hands and pulled his hair with a fierce groan. Jack stood in front of him, concern and frost spreading.

“Hiccup?” Jack asked. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my village,” Hiccup said thinly. “It’s my dad. It’s everything.”

Jack tilted his head curiously, but didn’t pry. He gave Hiccup space and time, waiting with the patience of an immortal until Hiccup was ready to tell him.

“I told you that we have Dragon Training here,” Hiccup began after a moment. 

“Yeah,” he said with a nod, “you told me not to come because you aren’t training dragons… You’re fighting them.”

“Right,” Hiccup said and sighed heavily. “Well, spending all my time with Toothless has turned out to be a beneficial curse. I’ve become so good at taking down dragons in nonviolent ways that I’m the top of the class for reasons that no one understands. Today, I accidentally took down the Gronckle before Astrid and now I have ‘won the honor’ of killing a dragon in front of the entire village.”

Jack wet his lips, uncertain of what to say. He knew it was Hiccup’s dearest dream to earn a place in the village and win his father’s approval, but he had grown so close to Toothless in the past few weeks. “C-can you do it?” Jack whispered after a moment.

Hiccup shook his head. “I don’t think so. I couldn’t kill Toothless back then and now…”

Jack approached and laid his hand on Hiccup’s thin shoulder. Gently, he carded his thumb over the length of bare skin at Hiccup’s collarbone. Hiccup felt Jack’s fear then. He felt it as potently as his own. Jack was worried about Hiccup, but beyond that, he was worried that he would lose Hiccup. The tender gesture spoke of that—of Jack’s longing and loneliness, of how Hiccup had come to care deeply for the invisible winter sprite, of how close they had become now that they shared the sky. 

“Jack,” Hiccup murmured.

Jack nodded. His blue eyes were soft and liquid. 

“Is there somewhere we can go? Somewhere that Toothless can be safe? Somewhere we can stay together?” he asked thinly. “Anywhere?”

Jack drew back slightly, but didn’t release his grasp on Hiccup. “There might be,” the winter spirit murmured. “The world isn’t flat and it’s huge.” Jack thought for a moment, visibly running through the many locations he had been to in the past two hundred years. “There’s DunBroch, but they’re kind of suspicious. They’ve been trying to kill a demon-bear for years.”

Hiccup wet his lips. “How about somewhere away from killing? I’m sick of killing.”

“Corona is nice this time of year, but I don’t think they’d exactly welcome a dragon. They’re kind of civilized,” Jack continued. “And Arendelle is pretty much the same way.”

“What about another spirit?” Hiccup asked. “Could we stay with another spirit or something?”

Jack shied away, running his hand along his side with an expression that spoke of the past. 

Hiccup said, “Never mind.”

Jack smiled gratefully and then knelt down before Hiccup. He put his arms around the young Viking’s chest and drew him close against the cool contours of his slender body. It took a moment for Hiccup to return the embrace. He wrapped his arms around Jack’s thinness and tugged him closer until Jack was right between his knees. He buried his face in Jack’s hair and breathed in the scents of pine, mint, and winter. He let out a soft breath, feeling some of the tension leave him as Jack rubbed his back comfortingly.

“I’ll find somewhere,” Jack promised as he put a little space between them so he could look into Hiccup’s eyes. “I’ll find somewhere safe.”

Giving into the urge to touch the winter spirit, Hiccup gingerly laid his hand against Jack’s jaw and felt the light bumps of a scar just to the side of his throat. Jack was looking at him, staring right into his soul, with those abyssal eyes of pure sweet blue. Hiccup could feel Jack’s breath, scented with peppermint, and oddly cool on his lips. For one instant, Hiccup became aware of just how little space remained between them and he forgot all about Astrid’s jealousy and fierce beauty. He almost leaned forward, almost closed that space, and saw Jack’s pale lashes flutter like twin fans.

Then, so quickly that it startled Hiccup to the core, Jack pulled away. 

The frost sprite hung back, gripping his staff, and smiled nervously at Hiccup. “I’ll go,” he said softly, “and find somewhere for you and Toothless.”

“And you,” Hiccup added.

For a moment, Jack looked surprised, but then he smiled warmly and nodded. “And me,” he said. “All of us.” Then, he was gone out the window in a cold gust of wind and a flurry of snowflakes that lingered long after he had gone.

Alone, Hiccup sat at his desk for a long time after that, staring at the Viking helmet his father had given him. It was a token of acceptance and pride—something Hiccup had wanted for as long as he could remember—and now, he didn’t want it. 

…

Jack Frost left Berk behind and dove out into the world, searching for something new in his long two hundred years of life. Unfettered and carried by the ocean breeze, it didn’t take long for the small island to disappear from Jack’s view, but it lingered in his heart as warm as dragon-fire. Jack let the wind lift him higher into the sky where the oxygen was too thin and the wind was so much faster. Time was of the essence. The next day, Hiccup would have to rip his heart out—either kill a dragon or disappoint his father further. Jack didn’t want Hiccup to make that decision so he flew faster.

Jack had been through the entire world at one time or another. Two hundred years was such a long lonely time. Jack scoured the continents from a distance, revisiting memories as he tried to decide whether each place was suitable for Toothless and Hiccup to live together. 

Each place drew up a blank. 

It was far too hot in Australia and one errant plasma blast could set the entire continent ablaze. Africa was pretty much the same even though they had soaking monsoons once a year. Though North America was Jack’s favorite place, he didn’t think it would be good for a dragon. South America was home to countless strange creatures with its abundant rainforest, but Jack figured that was too wet for a dragon. Asia loved mythology and gods, but it wasn’t exactly a calm continent and its people had a tendency to eat anything. Dragon might be tasty and Asia would certainly find out. Europe was a fan of large delicate structures that cried out for icicles, but were too fragile for a dragon to land on. While Antarctica was a second home to Jack, it was too snowy and barren for living people or animals. 

Jack circled North America, trying to decide if he and Hiccup could make one of the far reaches of the continent work as a new home. He gusted over the dense trees, whipping by at a lightning pace, and snow followed in his wake to match his worried emotional state.

Jack saw little flashes of color through the trees and children playing, but he didn’t stop long enough to see what was going on. The back of his mind protested, trying to remind him of something he should have remembered but had forgotten. Was it spring? It was Sunday, wasn’t it?

A thick blanket of clouds cloaked the sky and the stiff breeze that carried Jack moved with gale-force. Stinging flakes followed like tiny icy daggers. The trees bowed and howled as the blizzard whipped itself into a frenzy. Jack had grown too accustomed to the near-constant winter on Berk. Though he held his powers in check, he was letting them go too easily without the usual care he showed his season.

Jack landed on the very top of a tall pine for only a moment, catching his breath. Icicles spread across the branch at his feet. He leaned over the tree and peered down at the snow-covered ground below, trying to decide why his heart was pounding with wrongness. 

“Hiccup,” Jack spoke aloud. 

His thin legs coiled, ready to spring into the air again, when something large and grey abruptly collided with him from the side. The blow was like that of a mace, smashing Jack’s shoulders and ribs. The slender frost spirit lost his grip on his staff and plummeted to the ground below. He crashed hard into an icy drift, the wind knocked out of him, and scrambled to get his hands on his staff again. A sudden grip so warm that it nearly burned Jack’s cold skin closed around his bare ankle and dragged him away from his only weapon.

“Do you know what day it is, mate?” came a recognizable accent. (2)

Jack’s heart skipped a beat and his mind scrolled quickly through an imaginary calendar. What year was it?

“I’ll give you a hint,” the voice continued. “It’s Easter Sunday, ’68.”

Jack’s throat closed over an apology, an explanation, a plea. He rolled onto his back and gazed up at the E. Aster Bunnymund in shock. “Listen, please, I—”

The blow was solid and direct, cracking mercilessly into Jack’s nose. Pain speared through him, white-hot after centuries of never being touched. His eyes watered and he tasted blood. Desperately, Jack fought the Easter Bunny’s grasp. He thrashed in the snow, trying to reach his staff, trying to summon the wind.

Overhead, the thick blizzard-bearing clouds darkened further. More and more snow began to fall, threatening to plunge the world into another ice age. 

Jack couldn’t escape the tight grip. He lifted his hands, shielding his face and throat as best he could, beneath the onslaught of blows. This was just like what happened other times with different spirits. Why was everyone out to hurt him? Why was he always screwing up and deserving it? Jack tried to wrest free to no avail. Another searing blow blackened his vision.

“Hiccup,” Jack choked out through the blood that filled his mouth. 

“No more snow on Easter,” Bunny snarled and drove his fist into Jack’s abdomen.

A shriek of pain escaped the frost spirit. The wind and snow answered. 

There was a horrifying crack overhead as the wind broke a thick branch of the pine tree. The limb crashed down, deafening as it bounced through the ice-coated boughs. Bunny’s ears swiveled and he jerked his head up. Immediately, he released his grip on Jack and bounded away through the thick snow. Jack looked up just in time to see the falling branch. Pain seared through his head, his chest, his legs as the bough landed. 

Then, the whole world went black.

…

Night was beginning to fall, painting the horizon a slew of colors—red, pink, and gold as the blues of twilight crept in. Hiccup watched from his window, growing more and more worried. Why wasn’t Jack back yet? Tomorrow was growing closer and closer with each breath Hiccup took. His head swirled with images of Toothless, of Jack, of the horned helmet his father had given him, of blood and death. 

Finally, Hiccup couldn’t stand it any longer. He grabbed his satchel, packed it quickly, and left before Stoick got home. He looked at his new helmet for a long moment, but didn’t take it with him. It didn’t take Hiccup long to make his way down the familiar footpath to the cove where Toothless stayed. The dragon chuffed eagerly, sniffing Hiccup for hidden cod.

“Sorry, bud,” Hiccup said. “I didn’t bring any food.”

Toothless made a disappointed sound and sat back on his haunches, looking at Hiccup with bright eyes and curiosity.

“You and I are going on a little trip,” Hiccup continued.

Toothless lifted his great head towards the sky, scanning for the floating form of Jack Frost.

“We’ll meet up with Jack later,” Hiccup explained. “Right now, we just have to get out of here before something irreversible happens.”

Toothless head turned sharply, his ears flattened, and he growled. Hiccup followed the dragon’s gaze just in time to see a large branch swing back into place. A familiar mop of blond hair and bright armor took off running through the dense forest.

“Thor’s hammer! Exactly like that. That was exactly the irreversible thing I was hoping to avoid,” Hiccup said. He quickly dropped his satchel, swung his leg over Toothless’s back, and guided the dragon into the darkening sky.

It didn’t take them long to catch up to Astrid. Toothless swooped low and snatched her in his talons. She screamed and cursed loud enough to wake the dead. Toothless flew towards the large pine, dropped her safely onto a branch, and then landed. The tree bowed wildly. 

“Oh Thor,” Hiccup muttered as the tree swayed wildly beneath him. “Jack made this look so easy.”

“Hiccup!” Astrid shouted. “Get me down from here! Right now!”

Hiccup wasn’t sure how exactly he managed to convince her to trust him, to trust Toothless, and climb onto the back of the dragon. It must have been something he learned from Jack without ever realizing it. Toothless lifted his wings and they sprang into the shadowed sky. Astrid screamed the whole way up and the whole way down until Hiccup thought he’d go deaf. Her strong arms circled Hiccup’s chest and clung onto him like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly into his back. “I’m sorry! Just… make him stop!”

Toothless’s flight jerked steady so fast that Hiccup’s stomach dropped out. Astrid shrieked and tightened her grip. Then, the wind softened. Toothless drifted, floating through the dark sky like a leaf, like Jack Frost. His wings beat softly, sounding like the thump-thump of a heart. 

Slowly, cautiously, Astrid’s grip slackened as she dared lift her face from Hiccup’s back to look around. Hiccup heard her soft intake of breath, awe silencing her, and he smiled. He had felt the same way the first time he and Jack flew through the night sky together with Toothless, even though Jack never shared the saddle. 

She stretched out her hand, touching a nearby cloud, and giggled at the wetness. “Wow,” she breathed. “This is amazing.”

Hiccup nodded slightly.

Astrid circled her arms gently around his waist, holding on just enough to feel safe, and rested her chin on his shoulder. Hiccup felt the soft press of her breasts, the hard planes of her armor, the curves of her warm body. She smelled wonderful, like cooked meat and hyacinths and leather. A little riot of butterflies took flight in Hiccup’s stomach. 

“He’s amazing,” Astrid whispered and reached around Hiccup to lightly touch Toothless’s smooth scales.

Toothless chortled softly, pleased, and dipped low over the ocean. Berk positively glowed as they circled it. The windows of every house were lit up with amber firelight. It was calm and still, untouched by dragons and glittering with a faint coating of shining frost.

“I saw your satchel. Were you… running away?” Astrid asked after a moment.

Hiccup nodded slowly.

“Because of… your final exam?” she continued, her voice dropping lower. “Because you have to… kill a dragon?”

Hiccup took a deep breath and felt her grip tighten as his chest expanded. “Yeah,” he murmured.

Suddenly, Toothless banked hard into a wall of fog. They dropped countless feet and leveled out over the ocean. The cool spray soaked Hiccup’s face and Astrid yelped, holding him tighter. Toothless made a little nervous sound as his head turned one way and then the other, but Hiccup couldn’t see anything through the fog.

“What’s happening?” Astrid whispered.

“Toothless?” Hiccup asked.

Other dragons came through the fog like apparitions, wings beating. Toothless swirled away from them, protecting the two young Vikings on his back even as he was pulled further into the fog by some unheard call. Hiccup wished Jack were with him. He had stopped carrying even a small dagger since the sight of weapons made Toothless uncomfortable and now Hiccup was painfully unarmed. Astrid clung to him, her breath shuddering in her lungs.

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” Hiccup breathed out. “Maybe… the nest?”

“The nest?” her voice cracked.

Hiccup put his hand on Toothless’s head. “Bud?”

Toothless shook him off and continued through the fog until a massive spire of stone reared out of the mist. All the other dragons flew into it and Toothless followed almost helplessly until they were within the great mountain. It glowed fiery red on the inside and was considerably warmer than the cool night air. Toothless landed on a pillar of stone with a graceless clatter and crouched there, his entire body humming restlessly. 

Astrid let out a little whine and Hiccup put his hand over her wrist comfortingly. He watched the other dragons closely as they dropped sheep, fish, and innumerable other meals into the yawning red pit. What were they doing and why?

“Are they… hauling in their kill?” Astrid whispered.

Hiccup shushed her.

“What does that make us?” she choked out.

Hiccup rubbed her wrist gently, but continued to watch. He could feel something in the air, a certain tension and power, humming just out of sight. The other dragons and Toothless could sense it too and they were worried for it. Toothless almost shivered.

Then, it happened. From the yawning pit of crimson, a massive dragon lifted his toothy head. His mouth opened in a horrifying cry of hunger and rage. It took everything Hiccup had to keep Toothless from responding in blind panic, like the other dragons did just then. The dragons took flight wildly. A two-headed Zippleback was immediately snatched into that maw and devoured.

“Oh Odin,” Astrid breathed.

“We have to go,” Hiccup said to Toothless. “Now!” 

Toothless surged through the hot air, wings beating in time with Hiccup’s rapid heartbeat. Astrid held on tightly, her strength cutting the air from Hiccup’s lungs. The night air felt like a blow, blessedly cool and fresh after the stinking heat of the dragons’ keep. 

“Oh Thor,” Astrid whispered.

Hiccup was still gently holding her wrist and now she threaded her fingers through his. Astrid had always been so brave, untouchable, more Viking than Hiccup ever would be, but she was afraid. She clung to Hiccup tightly, comforted by his body and skin. 

“It’s okay,” Hiccup told her.

She pressed her face into his back and he felt her lips trembling against his skin.

“It’s alright,” he repeated.

Maybe it would be, he thought to himself, if Jack was here with him, but where was Jack? Why hadn’t he returned? Overhead, thick snow-bearing clouds clogged the clear night. The air was frigid and sharp, stinging with the first flakes of a blizzard. A storm was coming and Hiccup had no choice but to return to Berk.

…

There wasn’t enough time after that. It all happened too quickly, in a blur that felt like a snowflake or the start of a fire right before the smoke arrived. There was no time to run, no time to think of an excuse, no time to forget or change. Even the sudden and out-of-season blizzard did nothing to slow it.

Hiccup found himself standing behind the iron gate of the arena, gripping his helmet with both hands. Astrid stood with him, so close that he could feel the heat of her body. 

“Hiccup?” she whispered. 

“Promise me,” he said to her softly, “that if this goes wrong, you won’t let anything happen to Toothless.”

She hesitated, just for a moment, but then nodded. “I will,” she promised. “Just… don’t let anything go wrong.”

Hiccup chuckled self-deprecatingly and scanned the skies one final time for Jack Frost, for an easy escape and solution to this problem. “When have I ever messed up?” he asked her. “When has anything I’ve done ever gone right?”

She didn’t get a chance to answer him.

Gobber came around the corner just then, looking proud and happy. “Hiccup,” he asked, “are you ready?” There is so much more meaning to that simple question. Hiccup felt the weight of it like a heavy axe in his hands. Are you ready to make your father proud? Are you ready to be accepted by Berk? Are you ready to be a Viking?

“As I’ll ever be,” Hiccup said and lifted his helmet onto his head.

Astrid grasped his sleeve and tugged lightly. 

Hiccup stopped and turned to face her, question in his eyes amidst the worry on his face. Distantly, both could hear Stoick the Vast giving a rousing speech about how his embarrassing hiccup of a son was finally about to become a Viking. Hiccup sank a little, withering beneath the weight of the words without his dragon to lift him or Jack to smile. 

Astrid didn’t speak. Gently, she gripped the front of Hiccup’s green shirt and pulled him close. 

Her kiss is so swift that Hiccup almost missed it. He felt only the heat that remained in his heart afterwards. 

Astrid smiled thinly, shyly.

Gobber gripped Hiccup’s shoulder and turned him away.

Too quickly, Hiccup was inside the arena with everyone gazing down at him. Stoick the Vast was seated in his great chair, watching and grinning, but this was the first time he had seen Hiccup fight a dragon. His expectations were high, lifted by the stories he’d heard from Gobber and everyone else in the village. Taking a deep breath, Hiccup walked to the board of weaponry and shields. He took a small dagger and a shield. Everyone murmured, confused by this choice.

Hiccup inhaled, trying to settle his nerves. “I’m ready,” he said.

But he wasn’t. 

He scanned the sky again, but Jack wasn’t there. The sky was empty and bright.

The cage door opened as if in slow motion. Then, the Monstrous Nightmare exploded out of it. The dragon knew what was coming, could sense the bloodlust and expectation in the very air. The dragon was already ablaze, roaring, screaming, but it took him a moment to notice Hiccup standing there in the arena. Hiccup was small and thin, unobtrusive, scented with Jack’s winter and Toothless’s dragon nip. The Nightmare watched him, tail swishing back and forth, curious and not yet afraid.

Hiccup dropped the dagger and the shield.

The assembly of eager onlookers gasped. From the corner of his eye, Hiccup saw Stoick stand up sharply. His father’s face was pale, worried, but also angry. How dare Hiccup do this now, in front of everyone? 

“Stop the fight,” Stoick said firmly.

“No!” Hiccup shouted as loud as he dared. “No… I need you all to see this. We don’t have to fight them. They’re not dangerous.” Then, just as Jack had said all those weeks ago, “They’re just animals.” Hiccup stretched out his hand, inches from the Nightmare’s nose and sharp teeth. “Watch.”

“I said stop the fight!” Stoick shouted.

The dragon panicked. He snapped at Hiccup, howled in rage, and breathed out a field of flames.

Hiccup ran. 

It was all too quick after that, speeding along too swiftly to be altered or aided. When Hiccup looked back, he remembered it all in flashes that lasted no more than a second.  
Astrid tore open the gate, using an axe as leverage. She rolled into the arena to help Hiccup, screaming his name. She hurled something with all the strength in her slender body and then the dragon was chasing her instead. An instant later, Stoick joined the fray. He shouted something and Astrid ran to him. For a moment, she was engulfed in Stoick’s strong arms and Hiccup felt a breath of relief. Then, the claws of the Nightmare slammed down over his back and he couldn’t breathe anymore. 

‘This is death,’ Hiccup remembered thinking. ‘I’m going to die.’

Then, everything regressed. Time seemed to wind back. Hiccup heard the unmistakable sound that had once haunted the village during dragon raids—the whine of a Night Fury’s fire, the hiss of beating wings, the gusting of a cool breeze.

“Night Fury!” someone screamed.

“Get down!” Gobber shouted.

Toothless exploded into the arena, his plasma knocking aside everything and everyone in its path. Toothless was focused on only one thing—getting to Hiccup, saving him, protecting him. The Night Fury and the Monstrous Nightmare fell into each other, howling and shrieking. Toothless was smaller, but stronger. He positioned himself between Hiccup and the Nightmare, teeth bared in silent threat, and the Nightmare wouldn’t dare cross him. 

Hiccup remembered letting out his breath, relieved, safe, but it only lasted an instant.

“Chief, no!” Astrid screamed.

Hiccup was already on his feet. He pushed at Toothless, shouting, “Toothless! Go!”

But the dragon wouldn’t go. He stayed with Hiccup, at his side.

“Dad! No! He won’t hurt you!” Hiccup shouted.

Stoick was already on them, but Toothless was stronger. He knocked aside several other Vikings and pinned the chief easily, his obsidian claws digging into Stoick’s armored chest. His mouth opened in a great roar and plasma pooled in his throat. 

“No!” Hiccup screamed. “Toothless, no!”

Toothless froze, just for a moment, and then swallowed. He looked back at Hiccup, uncomprehending, his great green eyes soft.

Hiccup let his breath out, relieved, but everything was still moving too fast. 

In the next instant, the rest of the Vikings poured into the arena. They jerked Toothless off the chief and wrestled him to the ground. Toothless let out a mournful cry. Distantly, Hiccup was aware of the strength of Astrid’s arms, holding him back. He only remembered trying to go to Toothless, begging them not to hurt him. 

After that, everything was a blur—excuses, arguments, accidents, slip-ups… Hiccup didn’t remember exactly what he said, but it ended with him alone on the floor of the Great Hall, breaking like ice under too much weight. 

Stoick the Vast was going to the nest, thinking he could defeat that monstrous cannibalistic dragon. Hiccup watched as his father took Toothless and the rest of Berk’s fleet away, heart in his throat, but there was nothing he could do. 

After all the ships had disappeared over the horizon, Astrid joined Hiccup on the ridge, quiet like a pale shadow, like Jack. She stood with him in silence for what felt like a small eternity, but it must have been only a few minutes. She knew time was of the essence. She had seen that massive dragon right alongside Hiccup and she knew if they didn’t hurry, none of their parents would be coming back at all. 

“Hiccup,” she said finally.

He didn’t take his eyes from the horizon, looking out at the endless sea and sky. He needed Jack to come back, needed Toothless to come back. With them, he was strong, but alone… He was scrawny and weak, alone and useless. He was nothing. 

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“No,” he said and wished she would go away. “How could I ever be okay after what happened?”

“I know,” Astrid murmured. “You’ve lost everything.”

“Thanks for summing that up,” he snapped. Then, his voice dropped and sadness overwhelmed him. “Why didn’t I kill Toothless when I had the chance? It would have been better for everyone.”

“Not for you,” Astrid said softly. Then, almost curiously, she continued, “The rest of us would have killed him without a second thought, but you didn’t. Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Hiccup whispered and pushed a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”

Astrid gazed at him. “That’s not an answer,” she said gently.

“Why is this so important?” Hiccup demanded. “Why do you care?”

“Because,” she murmured, “I want to remember what you say right now. I want to remember forever.”

Hiccup turned to look at her and took in the sight of her earnest bluish eyes and pale hair. She was like Jack, he realized sudden, and then also nothing like Jack. Astrid was here now, supporting Hiccup, and Jack would always be invisible to everyone.

“I couldn’t,” Hiccup confessed. He remembered the sight of Toothless, bound and frightened on the frost-covered dirt. He thought of Jack, tangled in the bola and injured. It looked like all Hiccup could do was hurt, but he had learned to be different—and that was a good thing. “I wouldn’t.”

“Which one is it?” Astrid asked.

Hiccup stared at her a moment, uncomprehending. Then, he whispered, “I wouldn’t kill him because he looked just as frightened as I felt. I saw myself when I looked at him.”

“I bet he’s really frightened now,” Astrid remarked. “He’s alone. So, what are you going to do?”

Hiccup’s lips pulled in a wry smile. “I don’t know,” he said, “Probably something stupid.”

“You’ve already done that,” Astrid said, her eyes brightening.

“Then,” Hiccup paused, thinking. “Then, something crazy.” 

With one last glance at the empty sky, Hiccup turned away from Astrid and rushed back to the arena. It took Astrid only a moment to follow him, but she made a short detour before joining him in the arena. When Hiccup turned at the sound of her voice, he could only stare in surprise. Astrid had brought the other young Vikings—Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Snotlout, and Fishlegs. 

“So,” Astrid said with her infectious smile and contagious strength. “What’s the plan?”

Hiccup could have kissed her, but he restrained the urge. This must be how Jack felt, Hiccup thought as he helped each of them stretch out their hand to touch each dragon for the first time. Though this bright happiness was probably nothing compared to the joy of being seen after two hundred years of invisible loneliness, Hiccup felt lighter than he ever had. Finally, he had people who believed in him.

…

Hiccup and the rest of the young Vikings arrived on Dragon Island only moments after Stoick had cracked it open. The Red Death was making quick work of the Viking warriors and fleet, smashing and devouring everything in sight. Hiccup spotted his father among the chaos. Though Stoick the Vast usually commanded attention no matter where he was, he looked as small and weak as Hiccup compared to the Red Death.

“Dad,” Hiccup breathed and tightened his grip on Astrid’s hips. Then, he shook himself and focused. “Astrid, I need to find Toothless.”

Astrid nodded and directed the Deadly Nadder to swoop low over the remains of the fleet. Hiccup spotted Toothless quickly and was at his dragon’s side in moment, leaping down from a height that would have scared him any other time. Astrid returned to help the others, leaving Hiccup on his own to try to free Toothless. The dragon purred and pressed his head into Hiccup’s hands as the flames rose around them.

“I know, I know, bud,” Hiccup said as he strained to pull off the muzzle. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Hiccup heard shouting as his newfound friends distracted and fought the Red Death. Then, the burning mast of the ship crashed down with a deafening sound. Hiccup felt the deck give out and icy water engulfed him. Toothless howled in silence, bubbles escaping his mouth as he struggled desperately to escape. Hiccup swam after him, deeper and deeper, and put his hand on Toothless’s nose to calm him. Together, they struggled with the iron shackles. Hiccup’s lungs burned and darkness was beginning to creep in at the edge of his vision, but he wouldn’t leave Toothless.

Darkness took him, swallowing everything.

Then, suddenly, someone’s strong hands jerked Hiccup away and out of the water. Air filled his lungs, surging through his veins and body like fire. He rolled over, coughing and hacking up water. “Jack?” he choked out, but Hiccup only saw his savior from the back and he would have recognized that helmet anywhere. “Dad?”

A moment later, Toothless and Stoick broke the surface of the water. Hiccup didn’t waste time. He ran to Toothless and clambered into the saddle, soaked and shivering, but it didn’t matter. The Red Death loomed on the horizon, battered by the tiny specks of the other teens and their dragons.

“Let’s go, bud,” Hiccup said smoothly as he fit his foot into the stirrup for Toothless’s tail.

“Wait!” Stoick shouted. “Hiccup!”

For a moment, Hiccup almost took flight anyway. He wanted to run. He didn’t want to look back and see his father’s disappointment, but Toothless stayed on the rock for a heartbeat. It was just long enough for Stoick to grasp his son’s hand and wrist, holding Hiccup tightly. 

“Son,” Stoick gasped out. “You… you don’t have to do this.”

Hiccup stared at his father for a long moment before he whispered, “I do.”

Stoick’s eyes widened with shock and then, his voice as thin and brittle as ice, he said, “I’m proud… to have you as my son.”

Hiccup’s heart stopped, frozen with the words he had longed for so desperately. Finally, he was hearing them. “Thanks, Dad,” he breathed out.

Stoick let go.

The sky embraced them.

“He’s up!” Astrid shouted and her voice echoed even over the uproar of battle. Then, she was screaming.

Hiccup saw the Red Death’s mouth yawn open, saw the Nadder struggle to fly away, and knew if he didn’t do something, he would lose them both. Toothless’s first shot was sure, exploding in the giant dragon’s mouth like a grenade. Howling, the Red Death turned away and the Nadder gusted away. Astrid was still screaming. Hiccup and Toothless swooped towards her and then, she was quiet.

“Did you get her?” Hiccup asked, peering over Toothless’s sides.

Toothless nodded as best a dragon could and they glided low over the rocky shore. Toothless dropped Astrid onto her feet and Hiccup heard her shout, “Go!”

Hiccup had no trouble obliging her. His mind was whirling more than a mile per minute. He didn’t even have time to spare for thoughts of Jack Frost and the empty cloudy sky. On the ground, the Red Death definitely had the advantage, but the massive dragon had wings. If Hiccup could get the beast into the sky, he and Toothless would have the upper hand. 

“Fire, bud,” Hiccup said. 

The Night Fury rained a flurry of plasma blasts down on the giant dragon until the great beast spread its wings and followed them into the sky. Hiccup felt its hot breath on his back, curling his hair and drying his soaked clothes. Toothless made a nervous sound and beat his wings harder so they could pull farther ahead. Hiccup angled the tail and directed Toothless into the thick clouds overhead. If they could disappear, they could take down the Red Death.

The clouds closed around them, cool and damp, and the Red Death roared angrily at their backs. Another wave of blasts rained down on the massive dragon. Toothless swooped this way and that, making it impossible for the Red Death to find and burn them. Finally, enraged, the massive dragon unleashed all its fire and set the entire sky ablaze. Toothless dove straight down, spinning to protect Hiccup from the worst of the flames, but Hiccup heard the unmistakable whoosh of ignition. He glanced backwards and saw that the makeshift tail was burning.

“Time’s up,” Hiccup gasped. “Let’s see if this works. If it doesn’t, I guess we’re dead.”

Toothless growled.

“Come on, bud!” Hiccup shouted.

The pair swooped into the Red Death’s line of vision and the dragon snapped hungrily at them. Toothless managed to slide free, roaring loudly, and fired another shot into the large dragon’s face. Hiccup flexed what remained of the tail and then they were diving down towards the ground with the Red Death right behind them. Hiccup could hear the dragon breathing out flammable gas, preparing to dissolve them into ash and nothing more. Toothless bobbed beneath him, wildly, concerned.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Hiccup said. “We’re okay, Toothless. Just a little longer… Now!”

Toothless turned on a dime. The final plasma blast landed right in the Red Death’s gaping mouth. The gas ignited and rushed back inside the monstrous dragon, burning to the source. It began to howl in agony as the ground rushed up. It opened its wings, but Toothless’s other shots had seared holes through the thin skin. The dragon was practically freefalling, burning from the inside—it was over. Toothless opened his wings, caught the wind, and gusted upwards from the Red Death.

Hiccup tried to use the tail, but it had burned away and now fell off completely. His heart pounded, but he figured if they could only get away from the Red Death. Behind them, it struck the ground and exploded on impact. Blazing flames raced after them with otherworldly intent. Then, there was only the tail of the great monster, looming up like a piece of some prehistoric mountain.

“No,” Hiccup pleaded desperately. “No, no!”

Toothless saw it a moment later. His wings whipped frantically, but without a tail to turn, they were—

The Red Death’s massive tail bludgeoned into them. There was pain and darkness. Then, there was only fire.

X X X

(1) This is a pun for creative and intellectual minds. Frey is the Norse God of virility, prosperity, sunshine, and rain. He bestows peace and pleasure on mortals. He is also the twin brother of the Goddess, Freya.

(2) Despite how I usually portray Bunny, I really do love him. Hugh Jackman is my favorite actor! Yet Bunny always comes out as sort-of a villain when I write him… I think it’s because in the movie, he nearly punches Jack after Easter is ruined and I read into that. 

Questions, comments, concerns?

Drop some reviews for faster updates!


	5. Don't Let It Fall Apart

I just got back from seeing “How to Train Your Dragon 2”! It was so wonderful!

X X X

When Jack finally came to, he could hardly breathe. The broken branch hand landed on top of him, crushing his thin body. It was twice as wide as Jack was and three times as long and unbearably heavy. It lay across his chest and thighs, but the pounding in Jack’s head reminded him that it had struck him in the face and rendered him unconscious. Bunnymund was gone and the out-of-season blizzard had reached a shocking four feet. Dear Moon, how long had he been out?

Jack looked up at the cloudy sky and tried to calculate the position of the sun. Had he been unconscious for merely several hours or was this a new day? What about Hiccup? What about Toothless? Jack strained to heave off the branch, but only more agony speared through him. Whimpering, he settled back into the snow and looked around again. His staff lay a few feet away, but Jack could probably reach it if he tried. 

“I’m so stupid,” Jack muttered. 

Then, he stretched to reach the staff and managed to grab it. Using the skinny stick as leverage, he wedged it under the fallen branch and tried once again to heave it off. The branch lifted a few inches and then thudded painfully back onto Jack’s chest. He cried out and felt something rattle brokenly inside him. Bunnymund’s beating had been severe, but the branch was what had done Jack in.

There was no way Jack would be able to lift the heavy branch from this angle and it wasn’t as if anyone was going to come along and help him. Jack wedged his hand under the branch, took a deep breath, and willed snow and ice to form. It took a long time to summon snow from his body and skin, but the branch began to lift off him as the snow formed. Once Jack could breathe, it became easier. Finally, there was a gap large enough for Jack to squirm through.

Jack swept himself into the gentle sky, gasping in pain as the sudden movement lit every part of his body on fire. His chest was thoroughly bruised and half-crushed, but Jack didn’t let that stop him. He had to get back to Berk. 

He needed to get back to Hiccup. 

Hiccup was probably waiting for him, worried for him, scared for him. Jack thought of the young Viking’s grass-green eyes, his tousled brown hair, his infectious smile, and the freckles that dusted every inch of visible skin. He thought of the little touches Hiccup gave him—a squeeze to his shoulder, a brush of his hand, a caress of his face—even though Hiccup couldn’t possibly want him.

He had to get back to his only friend.

Jack returned to Berk just as the ruined remains of the fleet did. It had taken far too long to wrestle his broken body free of the fallen branch and fly back. Every breath sent a spear of pain through Jack’s chest and every movement burned through his thighs. 

When the frost spirit saw the damaged and seared ships, the other young Vikings alongside dragons, and Stoick the Vast looking small and thin, he knew something was wrong. Jack spotted Toothless among the fray, but he didn’t see Hiccup anywhere. His heart throbbed and pounded.

Jack swept low and he had never been so grateful to be invisible as he was at that moment. No one stopped him, no one spoke to him, and he could search for Hiccup uninhibited. Finally, he spotted the long shield being used as a stretcher to carry the teenager. Hiccup’s face was pale, his hair was burned, and he was battered. For one heart-stopping moment, Jack thought he was dead. Then, he saw the steady rise and fall of Hiccup’s narrow chest and nearly sobbed with relief.

The Vikings carried Hiccup home, hurrying urgently, and the healer was waiting. Jack stayed close to Hiccup, uncaring for the phantom pain that seared his very soul when people reached right through him. Jack wouldn’t leave Hiccup’s side, not now, not after he had failed to help his friend so thoroughly. Jack watched, stricken, as the healer removed what remained of Hiccup’s mangled foot below the knee and sutured it. Hiccup murmured in pain, but didn’t wake from his unconsciousness. 

“Oh, son,” Stoick whispered. He reached through Jack’s chest and held Hiccup’s hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It was a blur for Jack as the healer finished her work and put away her supplies. She smoothed a poultice to ease the pain and prevent infection over the stump of Hiccup’s leg and stepped back from the makeshift table where she had been treating him. “It’s done,” she said gently.

“Will he be alright?” Stoick asked.

The healer moved her shoulders, noncommittal. “That’s up to him, but he has a strong heart.”

A few minutes passed while Stoick brought Hiccup’s bed down from his room and settled the boy against the hard surface. He tucked him in gently, mindful of his injured leg, and the healer adjusted a pillow beneath the amputated stump. Jack perched on the edge of Hiccup’s bed, looking down at his injured friend. Tears burned in his eyes, freezing on his lashes.

Then, in the small quiet that followed, the roof of the small newly-built house shook and rattled. Jack recognized the roar of a dragon and curiously watched the support beams tremble. What was going on? Was Berk under attack again? But Stoick didn’t leap into action and there was no answering shouts of warning or fear outside. Calmly, Stoick glanced up at the ceiling and then back to his son, pale beneath his beard.

“If I were you,” the healer remarked smoothly, “I’d let that dragon inside.”

Stoick began to protest, “But—”

“The dragon saved him,” the healer interrupted. “He won’t hurt your boy.”

Stoick nodded, rose from Hiccup’s side, and opened the front door. “That is my roof! Come down here!” he shouted up to the dragon. 

A moment later, Toothless landed in the snow with a thump and pushed past Stoick with eager worry. He immediately went to Hiccup’s side and smelled him, warbling concerned sounds deep in his chest. Then, with a quick glance at Stoick, he laid down beside the bed with his tail tucked against his chin and watched everyone with bright dragon-green eyes. He had staked his claim and Jack had a feeling it would take the entire village to pry the dragon from Hiccup’s side.

“Leave them,” the healer murmured. “They’ll be alright.”

Stoick nodded and followed her outside. Others were hurt, there were ships to be mended, axes to be reformed, and problems to be solved. The village had to be told that the dragons’ nest had been destroyed. They had to be told that Hiccup was all right and that his Night Fury was no threat. There was work to be done and Stoick was the chief. 

Jack remained at Hiccup’s side with Toothless curled at his bare feet. They sat in companionable silence, each worried for the young Viking between them. Hiccup slept peacefully, his chest rising and falling with each comforting breath. Occasionally, his lips quirked in pain, but the moment always passed quickly. 

Jack’s own pain was not as merciful. It beat at him, throbbed with each breath, but it was nothing compared to the aching in his heart. How could he have left Hiccup to face this alone? Hiccup had been injured beyond repair and Jack hadn’t been there. Jack had to touch him, had to assure himself that Hiccup was alive. He carded his fingers through Hiccup’s hair, cupped the warm curve of his cheek, and rested his hand over Hiccup’s beating heart. He stared down at the sleeping boy, running his fingertips along the line of Hiccup’s collarbone. 

Time passed slowly and Jack wasn’t certain when exactly he fell asleep, but he began to dream of the open sky, warm skin, and soft touches. 

…

Hiccup woke to a coolness in the room even though he was comfortably warm and a quiet rumbling sound. He opened his eyes to fire-lit dimness and groaned weakly. His body protested, screaming in pain and exhaustion, as he tried to move. Finally, Hiccup gave up and wet his lips to call out when something shifted beside him. Startled, he turned his head and looked directly into familiar orbs of purest sky-blue. 

“Jack?” he whispered.

For a moment, Jack didn’t speak. He grabbed a mug of water from Hiccup’s bedside, touched it with his fingertip so that it cooled deliciously, and pressed it to Hiccup’s dry mouth. Hiccup drank greedily, his mouth unbelievably parched, and then weakly pushed the mug away.

“What happened?” he asked.

Toothless’s great dark head peeked over the edge of the bed, gazed at him with bright eyes, and then rumbled happily. He put both forepaws on the bed and leaned in close to press his nose against Hiccup’s chest. Hiccup wrapped both arms around the great beast and embraced him tightly. Then, he stretched out his other arm and pulled Jack close as well. For a long moment, he just held his two precious friends as close as he could. Then, he finally broke the embrace but kept his hand lightly on Toothless’s head. 

“Jack?” he repeated.

The frost spirit looked sideways shyly and Hiccup noticed that Jack’s usually pale skin was peppered with bruises and scrapes. Jack was barely breathing, but each breath he did take was hitched with pain. He had one thin hand pressed lightly over his ribcage, cradling it as if something was broken. 

“You weren’t here… What happened to you?” Hiccup asked, reaching out to gently touch a bruise that spanned Jack’s cheekbone and into his hairline. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jack assured him. Though he wanted to pull away from Hiccup with shame, he wasn’t able to deny the gentle warm touch. He leaned into it selfishly, sighing in pleasure. “What about you?”

“I think so,” Hiccup murmured. “I don’t really remember what happened after I managed to… There was this huge dragon.” Quickly but with all the detail he could remember, Hiccup told Jack what had happened while he was searching the globe for a safe place for them. He told Jack about how he was going to leave, how Astrid found him, how they accidentally discovered the nest and saw the giant Red Death, how he had tried to show his father that dragons weren’t dangerous, and how he had nearly been disowned because of it.

“Wow,” Jack breathed when Hiccup finished. Then, he closed Hiccup’s hand between his cold ones and whispered, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t with you. I should have been, but I—”

Hiccup hushed him, gently running the pad of his thumb along Jack’s swollen lower lip. “Tell me what happened to you, Jack,” he insisted.

Choking back his tears of regret and shame, Jack forced out his own tale of stupidity. “I was so worried about you and Toothless,” Jack explained, “that I didn’t keep tight control on my powers. I accidentally unleashed a blizzard and it’s Easter Sunday… Bunnymund found me and he was so angry.”

Hiccup cupped Jack’s bruised face between his palms. “Are you okay?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I’ll heal. I always do, but you…”

Hiccup moistened his lips and gingerly peeled back the blankets covering his lower body. He gripped Jack’s hand in his own, tightly, like a lifeline, as he prepared himself. With a deep breath, he pulled back the blankets and stared at all that remained of his leg. His breath caught, hitched, and then shuddered out.

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispered. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there with you.”

Hiccup rested his hand just above the amputation site and breathed out shakily. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I didn’t need it. I’m glad you’re okay and that Toothless is safe.”

Toothless nudged them gently, rumbling with concern. 

With a deep breath, Hiccup pulled them close again. “Stay with me,” he pleaded, “both of you.”

Jack nodded and Toothless purred. 

The frost spirit helped Hiccup beneath the blankets again and laid down outside of them, trying to keep the coolness of his body to himself. Hiccup clung to Jack and Jack refused to let go. He stroked Hiccup’s hair and accepted the tender brush of Hiccup’s fingertips against the bruises on his exposed throat and wrists. Though the small bed was too small, Toothless made himself fit somehow. He wrapped his long tail around them and draped his wing over them warmly. Thrumming in his chest, Toothless snuggled them together. 

In a tangle of limbs, wings, and tails, they comforted one another. The fire crackled softly.

“Hiccup?” Jack whispered in the quiet. 

Hiccup opened his eyes and gazed at the winter sprite. Jack’s face was so close, his cool breath hanging between them, and Hiccup suddenly had the urge to close that space. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Jack’s. Jack didn’t pull away, but he went still for a moment. He rubbed Hiccup’s back gently, soothingly.

“Yeah?” Hiccup answered finally.

But Jack didn’t say anything. 

Instead, he lifted his chin a fraction of an inch and his cool lips just barely brushed against Hiccup’s. The young Viking gasped softly, a little exhalation of breath, and Jack angled his chin back down so they weren’t touching any longer. Hiccup didn’t pull away. His mind cycled through thoughts of Astrid, thoughts of Jack, thoughts of love. 

Jack waited, still and patient, even though Hiccup could feel his heart pounding where their chests pressed together. Finally, Hiccup decided he didn’t mind that this was Jack and not Astrid. All that mattered was that this was Jack, his dearest and loneliest friend. Hiccup tilted his chin and initiated the slightest brush of Jack’s cool lips against his own. 

Jack’s arms twitched with surprise and then he was pulling Hiccup closer. The frost spirit melted beneath Hiccup’s warm mouth, dissolved in a way that allowed Hiccup to control everything. When Hiccup gently brushed his tongue along the seam of Jack’s lips, Jack opened like a flower and made a soft sound deep in his chest that might have once been Hiccup’s name.

Their kiss lasted a long time, tender and slow and deep, but never quite went anywhere. Hiccup was content to kiss Jack, exploring his lips and teeth, feeling the dance of their tongues. Jack’s hands moved along his back and tangled in his hair, greedy for touch, but he never pushed Hiccup. The kiss was so gentle, so different, and it was good.

They kissed for what felt like a small eternity that ended only because Hiccup could no longer keep his eyes open. He broke the kiss gently and breathed out, “Jack…” Then, he was asleep—too quickly to regret or think about or worry about what had happened. He slept dreamlessly, deeply, and without pain as he lay protected between his two precious friends.

Jack laid awake for much longer, frost spreading lightly across his clothes and skin with happiness. His lips were warm, so warm, and it was a feeling Jack had never tasted. He gazed at Hiccup’s sleeping face, brushed aside a lock of chocolate hair, and wished that this could last forever. 

Toothless rumbled softly and lifted his wing to cloak Jack in smooth inky darkness. Only after that did Jack manage to fall asleep.

Stoick the Vast returned home just as dusk was falling, exhausted from the events of the long day. He skipped over the hearth and the ale and went directly to his son’s bedside. Oddly, the large dragon had curled himself on the sturdy bed, sheltering Hiccup within his wings like a loving mother. He studied Stoick with warm bright eyes, purring contentedly. Stoick touched the dragon’s head gratefully and allowed himself to relax.

…

The few weeks that followed were busy, but no one would dare claim that they were simple. There were various changes taking place as Stoick tried to reshape the tribe into a vision that would survive the future, but it was hard and different. Vikings were integrating with dragons, creatures they had fought and killed for centuries. There were still stray fires and axes, which always led to more of the same. Stoick was out settling issues at all hours.

Hiccup was often left to himself, but less so than he used to be since he had friends for the first time in years. Astrid spent a lot of time with him as he grew accustomed to his new prosthetic leg. Toothless and Jack were with him all the time, helping him and keeping him on his feet when he would have otherwise fallen. He was grateful for all of them, but a strange grey area had developed between him and Jack.

Hiccup went out with Astrid all the time, flying through the clouds on their dragons. When they landed, Astrid would stand close so that he could feel the heat of her body. Sometimes, she took his hand and intertwined their fingers and just held on firmly. Sometimes, she leaned in and kissed him on the lips, gripping his tunic with both her hands. She smelled like hyacinths and armor, she was beautiful, and Hiccup couldn’t deny that a certain part of his body blazed when she was around.

Yet, there was Jack. Ever since the Red Death had mauled and nearly killed Hiccup, things had changed between them. Jack still stayed with him, laughed with him, played games and went flying with him, but there was something different. Jack often looked at Hiccup with undisguised longing and, in those moments, Hiccup would lean over and close the space between them. Kissing Jack tasted like peppermint and winter and was considerably cooler than when he kissed Astrid.

Hiccup knew he should have been able to decide between them, but something prevented him.

He had wanted Astrid Hofferson for so long, ever since she had started wearing those aggressive skirts that swished with her hips, and it was heaven to finally have her want him back. He loved kissing her, loved the press of her soft curves and the grip of her fierce hands, loved to curl her long hair around his fingers. Astrid was lovely, like a flower that bloomed in the middle of summer, bright and honeyed with butterflies dancing all around her. She smiled at Hiccup and his heart melted. 

But if he loved Astrid, how could he justify how he felt about Jack Frost?

Hiccup wanted Jack—wanted him to stay, to be happy, to smile and laugh, to be seen and loved. Jack had suffered greatly, reminding Hiccup of himself, but Jack’s problems all felt so much bigger. Jack hadn’t been seen or touched in two hundred years. If Astrid was a flower in the middle of summer, then Jack was a barren tree, leafless, standing alone in an empty snowy field. Somewhere between all those feelings, Hiccup wanted to love Jack.

And he did.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third loved two very different people.

Astrid Hofferson…

Jack Frost…

Was it possible to love two people? Even as that question circled Hiccup’s head late at night, he couldn’t think of a good reason why he shouldn’t. 

…

When Hiccup first met Jack, he had been surprised by just how easy it was to talk to the frost spirit. He had first assumed that someone invisible would have poor conversational skills and that was sort of true, but Jack was a fantastic listener. He also had plenty of interesting knowledge stored away in his immortal mind. Cornered by his own thoughts, Hiccup needed someone to talk to about what was happening and there was no question about who that person would be.

“Jack?” Hiccup began one night when they were lying together on his bed while Toothless slept on a wooden pallet in the corner. 

Jack was lying on his side with his hand resting on Hiccup’s stomach absently, but he lifted his eyes from the loose string he had been toying with when Hiccup spoke. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Do you think it’s possible to love two people?” Hiccup blurted before he could lose his nerve.

Jack’s hand stilled and he scanned Hiccup’s face curiously. “Why do you ask?”

“Just tell me if you think it’s possible,” Hiccup insisted, “even if those two people are very different.”

Slowly, Jack nodded. “Yes,” he said finally. “I think it is.”

Hiccup smiled and hooked his fingers beneath Jack’s chin, lifting the frost spirit’s head so he could look into those beautiful blue eyes. “Good,” was all he said.

Jack’s eyes widened a fraction and his lips parted in surprise a moment before Hiccup folded their mouths together. Jack gripped Hiccup’s tunic in his thin fingers and pulled the young Viking gently closer. The kiss was as deep and sweet as always. Jack’s cool fingers slid down Hiccup’s back, circled to his front, and slid beneath his green shirt to hungrily touch bare skin. Jack was always wanton for touches, kisses, caresses, and Hiccup was happy to oblige him. 

He carded his fingers through Jack’s cool silken tresses and pulled his head back gently so he could feather kisses against the column of his throat. Jack shuddered beneath Hiccup’s hot breath and warm lips, a small keening whimper of delight escaping his parted lips. Hiccup pressed his tongue to Jack’s racing pulse and sucked very gently. Jack arched into him, needy, clinging to Hiccup’s shoulders. Then, he managed to break away and captured Hiccup’s lips with his own.

Hiccup groaned into the practiced kiss, falling easily into the comfortable passion he had with Jack. He wrapped his arms around Jack’s thin back and crushed the frost spirit to him. Jack let out a little mewl as his breath was pressed from his lungs, but Jack sometimes liked to be handled harshly. He wanted to feel alive—to feel the hard rake of fingernails, the bite of teeth, the heat and wetness of Hiccup’s tongue licking away frost—and know that he was visible and touchable.

“I love Astrid,” Hiccup said suddenly.

Jack jolted, shock twisting in his stomach like an eel. A sudden spiral of worried frost escaped beneath his fingertips and fanned across Hiccup’s chest, prying a shiver from the young Viking.

Hiccup nuzzled against the side of Jack’s throat, his tongue flashing out like a searing match to trace the shell of Jack’s ear, as he continued in a whisper, “But the other person I love… It’s you, Jack.”

A bubble of heat swelled in Jack’s chest. “Really?” he breathed out.

Hiccup nodded and tightened his grip on Jack’s lean body. “Yeah,” he whispered. 

Jack kissed him then with all the passion of two centuries, all the love of an invisible lonely spirit, all the joy of someone who had always wanted but never known. Jack’s cool fingers mapped the constellations of freckles on Hiccup’s thin shoulders, ran over the contours of his slender back, and trailed a freezing path down Hiccup’s chest. Jack hesitated then, embracing Hiccup tightly. 

“What is it?” Hiccup asked. Jack was usually so certain, pouring everything he had into kisses and light touches.

“C-can we… really?” Jack murmured nervously. “You want to do this… with me? What about Astrid?”

Now, it was Hiccup’s turn to hesitate. Was this what he wanted? He had always imagined his first time being with Astrid, but there was something special about being with Jack. Jack wouldn’t mind if Hiccup didn’t know what he was doing or fumbled with inexperience. There was no barrier between Jack and Hiccup, but there was a small parchment-thin wall between Hiccup and Astrid. Hiccup didn’t want to look foolish in front of her—he didn’t want to act like the old Hiccup, the useless Hiccup, the worst Viking Berk had ever know. But Jack was the one who had fallen in love with that version of Hiccup. He had helped Hiccup grown into someone Astrid could love—someone strong, adventurous, and fearless.

“Yes,” Hiccup said after a moment. “I want you, Jack.”

A smooth curl of frost spread across Jack’s cheeks as he blushed.

Hiccup chuckled and rubbed the pad of his thumb across Jack’s cheek. “Nervous?”

“Just a little,” Jack admitted. “I want it to be good for you, but… I’ve never done this before.”

“Neither have I,” Hiccup said softly. Then, he closed the space between their lips and kissed Jack deeply.

Jack sighed into the kiss, dissolving like snow on a warm summer afternoon. His cool hands slipped beneath Hiccup’s tunic, lifting it until he could see the lean contours of Hiccup’s bare chest, and he smiled. The winter spirit broke the kiss and trailed a path down the side of Hiccup’s throat, pausing to nip at sensitive places. Hiccup shuddered in delight, threading his hands through Jack’s hair. Frost fanned against Hiccup’s bare skin, brought about by Jack’s soft exhalations. 

Jack’s lips were cool as he laid a volley of open-mouthed kisses along Hiccup’s collarbones. Hiccup lifted his arms and allowed Jack to peel the tunic off completely. Chest bared to Jack’s eyes, Hiccup lay back against the pillow and stared up at the frost spirit. He could see himself reflected in Jack’s bright eyes.

“I’m too skinny,” Hiccup started to say.

Jack silenced him with a gentle kiss and retraced the path his lips had made earlier. When he gently rasped his tongue over Hiccup’s nipple, the young Viking nearly cried out. The sensation was cool and strange, but not unwelcome. Jack suckled lightly, rolling the bud between his lips and stroking it with his tongue. Hiccup’s pants tightened and his skin grew hot.

“Jack,” he moaned thinly.

Jack smirked into Hiccup’s skin and moved his attention to Hiccup’s other nipple. Hiccup arched against him, gripping Jack’s hair with one hand and the blanket with the other. Jack’s cool hand suddenly slid over the bulge in Hiccup’s pants. Hiccup jolted in surprise and pleasure. No one had ever touched him there before except himself and the coolness of Jack’s hand was like a live wire on his skin.

“Sorry,” Jack murmured. “Too cold?”

“It’s okay,” Hiccup gasped out. “Just keep… ah!”

Jack slipped his hand beneath the waistband of Hiccup’s trousers and gripped him directly. He stroked lightly, feeling the overheated silky skin against his palm. He moved his thumb over the warm weeping head and Hiccup cried out as gentle frost formed on his delicate organ. Jack freed him from his pants and kissed a short path down Hiccup’s lean heaving chest. He wet his lips nervously, but was willing to try anything for Hiccup.

Hiccup had his eyes closed and his head tilted back in pleasure so he didn’t see what Jack was planning. He was too lost in the gentle strokes and the feeling of frost on his sensitive skin. Then, a wet cool cavern closed over the mushroomed head of him and Hiccup cried out sharply. His hips lifted and his grip on Jack’s hair tightened. 

“J-Jack,” Hiccup gasped out.

The frost spirit didn’t stop his ministrations. Peering up at Hiccup through his white lashes, he experimentally traced his tongue along the throbbing warm vein, swirled around the pulsing head, and pressed at the slit. Each new movement tore a gasp of pleasure from Hiccup. His hips lifted and thrust uncontrollably. Deeper, his body begged and Jack wasn’t going to deny him. He swallowed Hiccup deeper and deeper until he was enclosed within the convulsing walls of his throat. 

Hiccup screamed out what might have been Jack’s name as the tight sheath clenched around his aching shaft.

A jet of something salty and burning hot streamed down the back of Jack’s throat and pooled warmly in his stomach. Jack swallowed everything, his lips and tongue milking everything from Hiccup’s body. Then, he feathered kisses all along the fine hairs of Hiccup’s chest until he could press his clothed body against Hiccup’s nearly-nude form. Jack still held Hiccup’s softening member in his hand, stroking it idly as Hiccup rode out the last waves of his orgasm.

Hiccup lay still for a long moment, panting. Then, he wrestled the rest of the way out of his pants before he turned his head and kissed Jack deeply. “My turn,” he said when they broke apart to breathe.

A flush of frost that was part-eagerness part-embarrassment spread across Jack’s pale cheeks.

Hiccup untied the laces of Jack’s deerskin cloak and pushed it off his narrow shoulders. He leaned close and fastened his lips to the creamy expanse of skin just above Jack’s collarbone and the frost sprite moaned softly at the heated touch. Hiccup pushed up Jack’s blue tunic and then peeled the garment over his head. His rough hands immediately fell upon the snowy field of Jack’s bare skin. He had never seen anyone with such perfect skin, white mapped with blue veins and dusted with frost in places. 

He ghosted his lips along the curve of Jack’s muscles, over his pale nipples, down the flat plane of his stomach. Jack lay beneath him, writhing and whimpering at the onslaught of sensation on skin that had never been touched before. Hiccup hadn’t done anything more than just touch Jack and he could already see the winter spirit coming undone at the seams. How would Jack react if Hiccup touched him harder, deeper, more? Hiccup might have been a virgin, but Jack hadn’t been touched in two hundred years. Beyond just his body, Jack’s very skin was virgin.

Smirking, Hiccup opened his mouth and drew a long slow lick from Jack’s navel to his throat. Jack keened, moaning, at the sensations. Hiccup closed his lips over Jack’s nipple and tried to recreate what Jack had done earlier, licking and suckling and nipping gently. Jack responded to every touch as if it was perfect, his thin body lifting off the hard bed in an attempt to lengthen the contact. Hiccup slid his hand between Jack’s thighs and gently cupped him through the tight barrier of his worn pants. Jack jolted and his legs wrapped tightly around Hiccup’s hips, preventing him from pulling away.

“Don’t stop,” Jack begged. “Please, don’t stop.”

Hiccup didn’t plan to. He tugged down Jack’s tight trousers and discarded them. For a moment, he just stared, making mental comparisons that he quickly pushed into the back of his mind for later. Jack’s shaft was flushed bluish and pale, virtually hairless, but stood up insistently as Hiccup closed his hand around it. The heat of Hiccup’s skin melted the frost that had formed even there. Jack cried louder as the barrier of frost disappeared and he could feel everything directly. 

Hiccup stroked Jack firmly, using his free hand to trace a continuous path of gentle pinches and caresses all over Jack’s exposed body. Jack clung to Hiccup desperately, his cold fingers digging into Hiccup’s strong shoulders and back like a drowning man. The sensation was too much for the untouched spirit boy. When Hiccup kissed him, touched him, and stroked him all at once, Jack came as if he was falling over the edge of a cliff. 

All at once, there was everything and then there was nothing except Hiccup. Ribbons of cool seed splattered between them, accompanied by Hiccup’s name and a spread of fernlike frost that covered the entire bed and Hiccup’s shoulders.

Hiccup gazed down at Jack for a moment, taking in the sight that was laid out before him as beautifully as any painted shield or great dragon. Jack’s white skin sparkled with frost, the bed was patterned carelessly, and Hiccup could feel Jack’s essence on his skin. Jack was positively undone, breathing hard with his gorgeous blue eyes unfocused.

Hiccup leaned down and kissed him gently. 

Jack gripped Hiccup tightly, kissing him as if he was an anchor in the storm of feelings around them. Completely nude, Jack arched his back to press completely against Hiccup’s warm skin. He could feel Hiccup’s shaft, hard again from watching Jack, pressing against his lower stomach. 

“I have an idea,” Jack murmured.

“What?” Hiccup asked.

“Will you get me something?”

For a moment, Hiccup hesitated. “What?” 

“Something slippery, like butter.”

Hiccup looked confused. 

Jack smiled at him stunningly. “Please? You’ll like it.”

Hiccup wet his lips, nodded, shrugged into his tunic, and scurried downstairs to the empty kitchen. A moment later, he returned with a small crock of yak butter. “Here,” he said and handed it to Jack as he stripped off his tunic again. “What are you going to do with that?”

Jack smiled mysteriously, lay back against the pillow, and beckoned Hiccup closer. 

Hiccup leaned over him, met Jack’s lips, and kissed him deeply. Jack’s hands wrapped around Hiccup’s back for a moment and then were gone. Puzzled, Hiccup continued kissing the frost spirit for only a moment before he pulled away. It wasn’t like Jack to not touch him. Was something wrong?

“Jack?” Hiccup asked and pulled back slightly to look down at his lover.

Jack’s blue eyes were half-lidded, but he was still smiling softly. Hiccup’s eyes moved down Jack’s body, taking in his white skin and toned yet thin form. Then, he realized Jack wasn’t touching him because Jack was touching himself. One of his long thin fingers was slickened with butter and sliding in and out of the very core of his body. The ring of muscle winked at Hiccup as Jack’s finger slipped in and out of view. Inexplicably, Hiccup’s mouth went dry and his shaft began to flush with blood anew. 

“What are you doing?” Hiccup asked quietly, his voice barely a breath. 

“Don’t stare at me,” Jack pleaded. “Just… kiss me.”

Hiccup hesitated a moment longer before he leaned down again and kissed Jack with all the deep tenderness he had. He could feel Jack’s hips lifting against his belly, the frost spirit’s member hardening as he moved. He wondered what Jack had in store for them. Finally, Jack broke their kiss with a light exhalation of snowflakes and frost.

“I think I’m ready,” Jack said with a shy smile.

He pushed Hiccup back slightly, rolled the young Viking onto his back, and then straddled him lightly. Jack’s body was cool against Hiccup’s flushed skin. Hiccup’s member brushed between Jack’s thin thighs, settling against the cool skin with a soft shiver. Jack braced one hand on Hiccup’s chest, preventing the young Viking from moving, as he reached for the jar of butter again. He scooped some out on his fingers and reached for Hiccup’s shaft.

“Do you trust me?” Jack asked quietly. 

Hiccup nodded. 

“I trust you too,” Jack continued. “I’ve never tried this before, but I’ve… heard about it.”

Hiccup wet his lips and watched as Jack stroked the butter all along his thick shaft until his skin was slippery and wet. Then, Jack took a deep breath, lifted his weight onto his knees, and gripped Hiccup’s shaft firmly. He scooted forward awkwardly until Hiccup was directly beneath him. Slowly, Jack lowered his weight. For a moment, Hiccup still didn’t know what the frost spirit was doing. Wasn’t this something only girls were capable of? Could Jack really take Hiccup into his body?

Then, the head of Hiccup’s cock began to breech the tight ring of cool muscle Jack had loosened earlier. Jack gasped, but continued to lower himself. Hiccup’s shaft was unbelievably hot compared to the temperature of Jack’s wintry body. Jack tilted his head back, breathing out shakily, as Hiccup slid deeper into him. Hiccup gripped Jack’s narrow hips with both hands, forcing himself to remain still as Jack swallowed him one delicious inch at a time.

Finally, Hiccup was sheathed completely within Jack’s cool body and the feeling was like nothing he had ever imagined. Jack’s muscles rippled, squeezing and loosening in tandem with Jack’s heartbeat, and his insides were cool compared to the searing heat of Hiccup’s skin. Frost spread from beneath Jack’s hands, fanning wildly across the bed, as he absorbed the warmth of Hiccup’s shaft. Hiccup glowed with heat like a single candle in the dark and cold. Jack moaned softly and then leaned down to kiss Hiccup as they both got used to the feeling.

“You can move,” Jack whispered into Hiccup’s mouth. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Hiccup asked.

Jack nodded and his eyes glowed like twin stars. 

Experimentally, Hiccup held Jack’s hips steady, pulled out a few inches, and then pushed back inside. Jack cried out, throwing his head back in delight, as the sensation of being filled so warmly rushed through his blood. Hiccup gasped as Jack’s muscles tightened even further, squeezing him in a delightful vice. 

“Oh, Jack,” Hiccup whispered.

Jack nodded. “Please, move,” he insisted.

Hiccup didn’t have to be told twice. 

The young Viking thrust into Jack’s plaint body and the winter sprite drove down to meet him each time. Hiccup moaned and ran his hands up Jack’s torso to flick his nipples gently. Jack’s body tightened as Hiccup touched him in other places, as he stroked one hand through his white hair and pulled Jack down for a kiss. Jack rolled his hips, twisting his body as easily as he did when he flew through the sky like a leaf. Suddenly, there was an explosion of white-heat and pleasure and Jack screamed Hiccup’s name.

“What is it?” Hiccup panted. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Jack gasped. “Please, do that again.”

Hiccup nodded quickly, steadied Jack with one hand, and drove hard into his cool body. His shaft rubbed along something inside of Jack that unleashed a torrent of scalding pleasure. Jack threw his head back, braced himself on Hiccup’s chest with both hands, and rode Hiccup eagerly. The young Viking pounded up into his cold lover, feeling the ripple of Jack’s muscles and the pulse of his heartbeat. He could feel the familiar coil growing in his belly even though he never wanted this to end.

Hiccup grasped Jack’s member and began to stroke in time with his thrusts. Jack’s arms shook, trembling with the effort of keeping himself upright through the waves of tangible pleasure that Hiccup showered down on him. His hips rolled and bucked, the sheath of his body clenched around Hiccup’s long member, and Hiccup knew Jack was close too.

“Jack,” Hiccup whispered.

Jack’s eyes opened just a fraction, shining blue and hazy with pleasure. He leaned down and kissed Hiccup, just once and only lightly, but it was like an explosion going off.  
Frost spread beneath Jack’s hands, curling all over Hiccup’s skin and the bed in spirals of beauty. Then, Hiccup came sharply, burying himself to the hilt inside Jack’s body with one final thrust as he came hot and hard. Jack’s cool semen splattered between them, turning to frost on Hiccup’s freckled skin, as he cried out Hiccup’s name.

Breathing hard, they collapsed side by side on the bed. 

After a long moment, Hiccup found the presence of mind to fetch his tunic and wipe the chilled seed from both their skin. Then, he cradled Jack against his chest, holding him tightly as if he was something precious that would vanish at a moment’s notice. Jack melted into that embrace, breathing snowflakes. For a long time, they lay like that while Toothless remained on his pallet in the corner of the room.

Jack traced Hiccup’s toned chest with the tip of his finger because he couldn’t not touch him. Warmth lingered deep inside his cold body, Hiccup’s seed pooled there like a second heart, and Jack relished being warm in a way that he never had been before.

“Hiccup?” Jack whispered after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“What about… Astrid…?”

Hiccup pressed a kiss to the top of Jack’s head. “I love her, too, but I’ll always have loved you first.”

Jack smiled and burrowed deeper into Hiccup’s arms. “Can I come back?”

“Whenever you want,” Hiccup promised. 

Jack wet his lips. “Even after you’re with Astrid?”

Hiccup nodded.

“If you want, you can just leave your window open,” Jack murmured. “If it’s ever locked, I’ll leave and I won’t come back…” 

Hiccup hushed the frost spirit and kissed him again, gentler and longer than he had before. When they finally broke apart to breathe, Jack didn’t ask again. He nestled against Hiccup’s side and breathed in the scent of Hiccup’s skin. Hiccup held him all through the night, warm against cold. Neither of them was certain when exactly Toothless climbed into bed with them, but they woke beneath a dark blanket of ink-black wings and kissed again.

…

Whole seasons passed and years went by at a time. Jack Frost watched Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third grow older, stronger, fiercer, smarter. He watched Hiccup grow from a lanky kid to a stoic chief. He watched Hiccup marry Astrid Hofferson, kiss her, love her. They moved into a house together, shared a bed, and Toothless never climbed in with them as he usually did when Jack stayed with Hiccup. Time passed and things changed. 

Jack stayed the same though, as unchanging at the near-endless winter on Berk. He was never jealous of what Hiccup had. He knew it had to be this way and he was happy for what he had with the young Viking. He still stopped by sometimes and pushed open the window. Hiccup would be working at his desk or drawing out new plans for Toothless’s saddle. Jack always had a moment of fear before Hiccup turned to see him. Was he invisible again? Had Hiccup forgotten?

But then Hiccup would turn and smile and Jack’s fear would pass. They would be together, just like old times. Hiccup had gotten better at it over the years, driving into Jack deeper and angling to brush that bundle of nerves inside his cold body perfectly. He always held Jack afterwards and kissed him while his seed warmed Jack from the inside out. When Astrid came home, Jack would accept a final kiss and then leave for the open sky.

Yet, through all his happiness and joy, a shadow lurked in Jack’s mind. The frost spirit always waited for the day he would return to find Hiccup’s window locked. Maybe after Hiccup became chief, maybe after he moved in with Astrid, maybe after he had children, maybe after… But Hiccup always left his window open and Astrid never asked about the nights she came home to find the bed she shared with Hiccup dusted with fernlike patterns of frost.

X X X

Voila! We are finished!

First, drop me a **REVIEW** and let me know what you think. This is only my second time working with a gay pairing, so let me know how I did. Tell me things you loved, things you hated, things you didn’t understand. Also, I’d love to know who you like paired with Jack Frost since I’m curious! The final chapter is the most important one for reviews!

Second, I own nothing except my original plotline and my original characters.

Third, there will be NO SEQUEL! So don’t even ask!

Fourth, please, check out my first ORIGINAL NOVEL! **The Breaking of Poisonwood by Paradise Avenger.** (Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a slave auction as a birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new life was going to be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when Venus de Luna was killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior… Then, bad things happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we discovered the ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to his advantage. The Poisonwood—)

Questions, comments, concerns?

So, I bid you adieu!


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